


Yellow Diamonds in the Light

by flowerfan



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Dystopia, First Time, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Racism, Xenophobia, future!fic, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When political extremists come to power, racism, homophobia, and hatred become accepted as part of day to day life.  This is the climate that Blaine and Kurt are forced to grow up in.  A dystopian future AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tw for minor character death (not Kurt or Blaine), violence, racism, homophobia, hate, extremist right-wing politics, xenophobia. The story has a darker tone than most I have written, but it does get lighter along the way. I’ll be posting 2x week.
> 
> Note: This is an imagined world, hopefully never to be reality in the United States. Unfortunately, with what some politicians are spouting these days, it doesn’t seem as impossible as it should.

The world Blaine grows up in is much different than the one his parents expected it to be. The political atmosphere has become stifling. Rigid, extremist views permeate every aspect of life. Some say it began with President Trump, who completed his second term years ago and then managed to get his right hand man into power after him. Others trace the beginning even further back, to the anti-immigrant movement which surged before Trump came into office, and the terrorist attacks which spread fear and hate among the populace. 

None can doubt that the intensity of right-wing dominance reached a climax with what many now call the culling. It was a disease that took root in the immigrant internment camps, and quickly spread throughout the country, a virulent strain of deadly flu that had never been seen before. As soon as one vaccine would be developed it mutated, swiftly taking lives of the young and old and everyone in between. Immigrants were blamed for being the source of the illness, or even using it as a bioweapon to harm Citizens. 

The Trumpeters claim it is a sign of your character whether you live or die after catching the disease, while others credit God’s grace with sparing those who are suitably pious. If it preys on the poor more than on the rich, like so many other diseases, well, that is justified in the eyes of many who have been brainwashed for years in a political climate of hate and fear.

Blaine is six years old and doesn’t know the details of what is going on around him, just that his parents are often worried, and he rarely leaves their house anymore. Many families have been homeschooling their children to decrease the likelihood of catching the disease from others, but Blaine’s parents continue to keep him home even after the worst of the epidemic dies down. He hears his parents arguing at night about whether his mother should try to get her job back – she had been a guidance counselor in an elementary school – or whether there was no point to it given the new heritage requirements, which, according to his father, seem to be changing every day. 

Blaine misses going to school, and wishes things would go back to normal. He would even join the junior citizenship club his parents seemed so upset about. The kids in that club have cool uniforms – he saw them parading around town when his mother took him to the dentist. But when Blaine tries to talk about it with his parents, his mother’s dark eyes fill with tears, and his father just shakes his head, claiming Blaine doesn’t understand. He wishes someone would explain. He’s not a baby anymore.

The day after his seventh birthday, his parents sit him down and tell him more about his family than he ever knew before. His mother explains that she wasn’t born in this country, and although she is a citizen now, the changing laws are treating her as if she has fewer rights than people whose parents and grandparents were born here. His father tells him about relatives who live in other parts of the country, and sketches out a chart showing where some of them were born. Over the next few weeks, they keep coming back to the topic, and Blaine begins to understand that the people who are upset at his mom don’t like people like him much, either. 

Time goes by, and nothing much changes. Blaine stays home, and his mom does, too. One night Blaine’s brother Cooper comes home filled with uncharacteristic anxiety. Blaine is told to go to his room, but he tries to listen through the door, Cooper’s voice high and nervous as he talks to his parents. Cooper had been supposed to leave for college this year, but their parents had convinced him to wait, concerned about his safety. Now he’s saying something about a shooting, a mob scene, that they’re in danger. That they have to leave.

Before Blaine can even begin to process what this might mean, there’s a loud cracking noise and voices yelling. He scampers back into his closet, burrows down behind a suitcase and pulls a sleeping bag on top of him. He hears screaming – his mother? Another loud noise, and the screaming stops. It was a gunshot, he thinks, his heart beating so hard in his chest he can hardly breathe. A gunshot. In his house. It can’t be possible. His mother says he has an overactive imagination. He’s clearly imagining this.

Blaine waits, keeping as still as he can manage, begging his arms to stop shaking where they are wrapped tightly around his knees, praying that no one opens his closet door. He listens, hoping to hear someone telling him it’s okay to come out, telling him that everything is fine. But that voice doesn’t come. Instead there’s just a snapped order, some low mumbling, and then silence.

He doesn’t know how much time passes. Blaine shifts tentatively, as quietly as he can, but still hears nothing. Stiffly he tugs the sleeping bag aside, crawls out of the closet and looks around his bedroom. Nothing has changed in here. He sits by the bedroom door for long minutes, his ear pressed against it, trying to figure out if anyone is on the other side. There’s no noise other than the hum of the heater as it cycles on and off.

Finally he takes hold of the doorknob, eases the door open a crack, and looks out into the living area. But what he sees splits a hole in his chest, as surely as if a bullet had hit him as well, and everything goes black.

*****  
Burt doesn’t travel often, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Travel is more difficult now, as you never know what the customs of a strange place might be. He’s heard that some cities require a specially issued identification card to enter, and guard their city limits as possessively as the military guards the southern border wall. 

He cuts his visit to this town short, feeling an uncomfortable hostility among the people he speaks with. He can conduct most of his business remotely these days, now that the internet is running more reliably again, and as much as he prefers the personal touch, he’s not about to risk his life for it.

Burt takes a different route away from the business district, trying to avoid a central square where there is some kind of political demonstration going on. He winds up on a back road, curving his way towards the hills. 

It’s getting dark as he pulls up to a gas station, raising his eyebrows as the attendant scurries inside and closes the door behind him. He didn’t need assistance anyway, he thinks as he pumps his own gas, but it just isn’t right that people are so frightened.

He gets turned around as he heads away, pulling over to a side road to check his map. Something odd catches his eye, and he realizes that the house on his left has its front door wide open, light spilling out from inside and illuminating the porch. As he drives closer, he freezes at the sight. The windows are broken and hateful slurs have been painted on the walls. There’s shattered glass everywhere. But there’s no sign of the police, no neighbors coming to help.

Burt gets out of his car and walks up to the house. He doesn’t intend to go inside, just get an idea of what has gone on before making a call to the local authorities. But then he sees someone lying on the floor by the door, and a little boy curled up beside her.

The woman’s Asian features are half coated in blood, and Burt knows before he even touches her that he cannot help her. But the little boy… he flashes back to a vision of several years before, when his own dear wife lay dying in her bed, his own little boy curled up beside her. It’s almost too much to bear.

*****  
“Hey there, you okay?”

Blaine startles when he hears the voice, tries to move away but his limbs won’t work right. There’s a large man crouching down in front of him, a baseball cap on his head. He reaches out towards Blaine and pauses when Blaine flinches.

“I won’t hurt you, son. I promise.”

Blaine blinks at him, unsure. He looks to his mother for help but – he starts shaking as he sees her, remembers. His mother is gone. This can’t be her.

“Are you injured?”

Blaine turns back to the man. His face is friendly, open. Not like the people in town who followed him and his mom the last time they went out for ice cream, yelling at them and leering. He shakes his head.

“Well, that’s good.” The man stands, holds out his hand to Blaine. He takes it and lets the man pull him up. “I’m Burt. What’s your name?”

Burt leads him over to the kitchen table. Blaine takes a seat gratefully. His legs still feel funny. His arms, too, are tingling, unsteady.

“Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

“Is that your mom, there?” The man speaks gently. It doesn’t really help. 

Blaine nods, his throat closing up.

“Did you see what happened?”

Blaine squeezes his eyes closed. He didn’t see, but… he does his best to describe what he heard to Burt. He feels an arm go around his shoulders. He thinks the arm is shaking, too, as much as his own body continues to tremble.

“How old are you, Blaine?”

“Eight.” My birthday was in the spring, he thinks. My parents sang to me. No one else was there. His thoughts are coming in such confusing waves, he knows his birthday party isn’t important right now, but all he can see is his mother’s face, smiling broadly as she carried his cake into the dining room.

“You’re being very brave, Blaine.” A look flickers across the man’s face. “I have a little boy about your age. He just turned nine.”

Wasn’t he listening? Blaine is eight, not nine. But he’s curious anyway. Another kid is easier to think about than what is right in front of him. “What’s his name?”

“Kurt.” The man looks around the house, rubs his hands on his jeans. “Would you like to meet him?”

*****  
Burt helps the little boy pack a suitcase, and quickly ushers him into his car. He doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing, but between what he heard in the bar this afternoon, what is painted on the walls of this child’s home, and the scene the boy described… he wants to put some distance between Blaine and this place as soon as possible.

Blaine says he doesn’t have any other family besides those that were in the house with him today. No grandparents, no aunts and uncles. Burt’s heart clenches. The boy is completely alone. He’s sleeping now, wrapped in the blue and green quilt from his bed, dark curly hair pressed against the passenger side window.

After a few hours, Burt stops at a convenience store and uses a pay phone to make an anonymous call to the police. He tells them he heard gunshots at Blaine’s address. He doesn’t reveal many details, and he doesn’t mention Blaine. After he gives the location, the man taking the call makes a derogatory comment about immigrants and loses interest. Burt figures that not much investigation is going to happen. 

He hates to leave Blaine’s mother there. He hates knowing that Blaine’s last memory of his mother will be with blood on her face. He hates the world for letting this happen.

Burt drives all night long. By the time he pulls into his garage, the sun has been up for hours. Carole’s car isn’t there. He thinks it’s just as well, it will give him a chance to get Blaine situated. 

Waking the boy up is an exercise in heartbreak. He can see the change in his eyes as he remembers what’s happened. He tries to distract him, showing him around the house and giving him a choice of breakfast cereals. The boy’s eyes light up for a moment when he mentions Kurt’s vast collection of DVD’s, but then he turns back to his bowl and continues pushing the sugary mess around without eating much at all.

He sets Blaine up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of juice, and before long the boy is fast asleep, not even making it past the opening song of the animated movie that was in the player. Kurt must have been watching it this morning.

Burt takes out his phone, debates what to say to Carole. He doesn’t really believe that the police could be tracing his phone calls – he certainly doesn’t believe they would go to that kind of trouble for Blaine – but he’s had problems of his own, and any semblance of personal privacy went out the window with the last administration.

He settles for pacing in the kitchen, keeping an ear out for Carole’s car. When he hears the familiar sound of the garage door opening, he goes out to talk to her. Carole will understand, he knows this instinctively. She lost both her husband and her own son in the culling, just two years ago. 

Burt and Carole had met in the compulsory reconnecting group that all widows and widowers were forced to attend. Single adults were thought to be a danger to the institution of marriage, and were strongly encouraged to remarry as soon as possible. Single parents were thought to be even worse, and Burt had endured months of harassment by his assigned counselor before he and Carole had gotten engaged. Burt knew he was lucky that he and Carole had found each other – it could have been a whole lot worse. She’s a good woman, and he is comfortable with her. He thinks she cares for him, as well, and she has been a good friend to Kurt. Although his grief over losing Kurt’s mom will never go away, at least he doesn’t have to live with someone he doesn’t like, or get written up as a potential threat to the community and bring even closer scrutiny down on his family. What’s left of it, that is.

*****

Blaine wakes up slowly, soon realizing that the singing he thought he was hearing in his dream was actually coming from across the room. He barely has a moment to figure out where he is before a voice chirps a greeting.

“Hi – you’re awake!”

The voice comes from a slender boy who jumps up from his spot on the floor by the television and comes over to Blaine. 

“Hi,” Blaine says. His throat hurts a little bit when he speaks. 

The boy sits down on the couch near Blaine’s knees, folding his legs up underneath himself. “Carole said not to wake you, but you woke up all by yourself, right?”

Blaine recognizes the hesitation in the boy’s tone for the request that it is, and immediately decides he won’t give him away. “Definitely.”

The boy’s blue eyes sparkle. “Good.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Kurt.”

“I’m Blaine.” Blaine takes his hand and shakes it, just as his mother had taught him. Kurt’s hand is soft and warm in his own. 

“Do you want some cookies? They’re chocolate chip. I made them myself,” Kurt says proudly.

Blaine nods and Kurt throws himself off the couch and dashes towards the kitchen. Blaine pushes himself up, taking a moment to look around the room. It has a nice feel to it, family pictures in frames on the bookshelves, and a pile of boxed games under the coffee table. He tries not to think about what happened in his own house yesterday, and instead focuses on the energetic boy who is still talking to him as he piles cookies on to a plate. Kurt, Burt’s son.

“I brought you some milk, too. Do you like milk? I think it goes so well with cookies.” Kurt sits down primly next to Blaine, pushing his brown hair off his face. “I tried tea a few times, but I don’t like it as much as milk. But if you put a lot of sugar in it, it’s better.”

Blaine takes a cookie from the plate Kurt offers him. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Kurt smiles and ducks his head. “You have nice manners. I like that. My mother always said there was no need to be rude.”

Blaine looks up, realizing he hasn’t seen Kurt’s mother yet, but he hears Kurt draw in a breath beside him and turns back to him.

“She’s not here. She died in the culling. Carole’s here now.”

“I’m so sorry, Kurt.” Blaine’s eyes fill with tears. 

Kurt shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a few years ago.” But Kurt goes quiet, and the sparkle in his eyes is gone.

Blaine rubs the back of his neck. The grown-ups always seem to know what to say about this. “We’ve all lost someone,” was something he heard on the news, back when his parents let him watch it. But he never could understand why that would make it okay. And it doesn’t seem to have much to do with the way Kurt looks so sad.

Kurt turns to Blaine and sets his hand gently on Blaine’s hand, where he’s still holding half a cookie. “My dad said your family got hurt.”

An image of his mother on the floor pops into his head, and he tries to push it away.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Kurt says, putting his arm awkwardly around Blaine. “It’s all right. You can cry if you want to. I always feel better after I cry.”

Blaine hadn’t even realized that he was crying.

The day passes in a blur, and Blaine is relieved when it is time to go to bed and he can stop fighting with his thoughts. Carole helps him get comfortable on the couch, tucking in his quilt around him. But when the house goes quiet, Blaine can’t fall asleep. He tries to keep his eyes on the front door, wondering if anyone will come barging in, like they did in his house. He doesn’t know any hiding places here. 

“Can’t sleep?” Kurt shuffles closer, holding an empty glass in his hand. His striped pajama pants are a little too long on him, and they catch under his toes as he walks. “I was going to get some water. Want some?”

Blaine shakes his head – he’s got a half full water glass on the coffee table next to him.

Kurt goes into the kitchen to fill his glass, then comes back to Blaine. He looks around the room and Blaine follows his glance. Everything is cast in shadow - the television in the corner, the dining table on the other side, the long curtains over the front windows. Kurt frowns. “Wanna come with me?”

Kurt holds out his hand and Blaine takes it, sliding off the couch and letting Kurt lead him down the hall. Kurt’s bedroom is small and a little bit messy. He’s got a twin bed pushed into a corner. There’s a yellow and red comforter on it, shoved to the side from when Kurt got up. A grown-up looking desk is covered in notebooks and paintbrushes, and a rocking chair with a soft-looking yellow blanket draped over it also holds what looks like the clothes Kurt was wearing earlier in the day.

Lined up carefully on Kurt’s bed, up against the wall, are a string of stuffed animals, and there’s another group of them balancing on his windowsill. Kurt sets his water glass down on the desk and climbs up on the bed, still holding Blaine’s hand. 

“When I can’t fall asleep, I talk to my animals,” Kurt says, looking at Blaine tentatively. Blaine wonders if he thinks Blaine will make fun of him. 

“My dad made me give mine away last year,” Blaine replies, reaching out to stroke a finger down the ear of a stuffed dog with big brown eyes. “I miss them.”

Kurt relaxes and lies down on his bed, and Blaine does the same. Kurt pulls the blanket over them both and proceeds to tell Blaine about each of his little pets, their names, how they get along with the other animals, and their favorite things to do. Many of them like to sing, and Kurt demonstrates a few of their favorite songs.

Blaine is sandwiched between Kurt on one side, and the stuffed animals against the wall on the other. Kurt’s light voice in his ear is calm and soothing. For the first time in what seems like forever, Blaine feels safe.

*****

Burt wanders out into the living room to do his nightly check of doors and windows before going to sleep. It doesn’t take him long to figure out where Blaine has gone. Kurt’s door is cracked open as always, and a star-shaped nightlight illuminates the room. There are stuffed animals strewn about the bed, and Burt laughs to himself as he imagines Kurt playing with them. His kid does the best voices.

The two boys are fast asleep. Blaine is holding a stuffed puppy to his chest, and Kurt, well, Kurt is holding Blaine. 

Burt knows there are a million ways that this can go wrong, but he’s never been more sure that he’s doing the right thing.

*****

The next morning Burt and Carole make the boys pancakes and then send them off to get cleaned up. Burt sinks into a chair at the kitchen table, and they once again raise the issue of what to do about Blaine. Carole doesn’t think they actually need to do anything, but Burt is worried that eventually they’ll be found out. 

“We haven’t done anything wrong, Burt,” Carole says again, her voice rising. 

“Maybe not. But it’s Blaine I’m most worried about, not us. You know as well as I do that since Blaine doesn’t have any family, he’s at risk if they find him.”

“Would they really send an eight year old boy to the camps? Alone?”

Burt shrugs. “His family was clearly targeted by the anti-immigrant crazies, otherwise known as-” Carole cuts him off before he can say what he’s thinking – the government. Because there’s really no question, anymore. The inmates are running the asylum.

“Shush, Burt,” Carole pleads. 

“It’s okay.” They both turn to see Blaine standing in the doorway, dressed in clean jeans and a red polo shirt, his feet still bare. “I can pass.”

Burt sees Carole’s eyes widen at this, and he beckons Blaine to come sit with them. It’s an awfully tough subject for a kid, but maybe Blaine is more aware of his situation than they realize. 

“What do you mean, Blaine?”

He shrugs. “I can pass. I don’t look un-American.” 

Carole flinches at the boy’s wording, but it’s not surprising given the rhetoric going around these days. She sits down next to Blaine and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Of course not, honey. No one does.”

Blaine just blinks up at her like she doesn’t get it. Suddenly he seems much older than he did the day before. “I mean, I don’t look like my mom.”

Burt tends to agree with him, but that doesn’t solve their problem. “But your documentation has your parents’ information on it, and eventually you’ll need that.” Burt pulls Blaine’s National Identification Card out of his pocket, where he’s been carrying it since he and Blaine packed up his belongings two days ago. Everyone is required to have a NIC, and can be asked to produce it at any time. It shows that Blaine’s mother was born in the Philippines, and became a U.S. citizen in 2016.

Blaine looks at the card, then stands up. “I’ll be right back.” Burt and Carole exchange curious glances, and within a minute Blaine has returned. He’s holding a worn out pack of trading cards, some kind of game that Kurt was never very interested in. Blaine slides the top off the box and shuffles through the cards, finally taking something out of the middle and handing it to Burt.

It’s a NIC showing Blaine Anderson’s parents as Judy Anderson (three generations U.S. born) and Michael Anderson (four generations U.S. born). Somehow the fact that each of these individuals had an immigrant somewhere in their history doesn’t matter to the current government, as long as it was far enough back. It defies logic, and it makes Burt’s blood boil.

“Blaine, who are Judy and Michael Anderson?” Carole asks, leaning over to look at the card.

“My aunt and uncle. My dad thought it was a good idea to have this, in case things got bad. I had their address, too, just in case.” 

“But things did get bad,” Burt says, without even meaning to say it out loud. And before he can even ask Blaine why he didn’t mention his extended family when they talked about it two days ago, Blaine answers the question.

“I know. But they died in the culling. My cousins, too.”

“Oh honey, how horrible,” Carole breathes out. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“It’s a damn good replica, I’ll say that,” Burt finally comments, turning the card over in his hand. It even has the security thread running through it, top to bottom.

“It’s not a fake,” Blaine insists. “It’s real.”

“But you’re not their son, are you?” Burt says gently.

“But Blaine is. Was. My cousin.”

Carole looks confused. “You had a cousin named Blaine?”

“It was my grandpa’s name. Guess my dad and my uncle both liked it.”

Or they realized how convenient it would be for Blaine to have the protection of the more established side of the family. 

“I wouldn’t want to ask you to pretend to be someone you’re not, son,” Burt begins, but Blaine interrupts him.

“S’okay. I know who I am. The card doesn’t matter.” Blaine looks back and forth between the two of them, apparently still searching for something to say to convince them. Finally he takes in a deep breath, and looks at Burt steadily. “Last year, after her parents got sick and died, my cousin Camille got sent to the camps, even though we said she could live with us. My mom never heard from her again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for minor character death (not Kurt or Blaine), violence (ch. 1), racism, homophobia, hate, extremist right-wing politics, xenophobia. The story has a darker tone than most I have written, but it does get lighter along the way.

It’s not risk-free, but Blaine continues to live with them, and Burt concocts a story for them to tell if they are ever challenged. Then he does his best to make sure they never are.

They keep homeschooling Kurt, which doesn’t cause any unwanted attention – he’d been homeschooled for years. Children have always given Kurt a hard time, and he was never very interested in conforming. In a world where being different can literally send you to jail, even being a Citizen of long-standing U.S. heritage wasn’t going to protect Kurt.

Carole continues to take Kurt to town occasionally, but they limit their activities to those that don’t require much interaction with other children – a quick stop at the library, or a supply run to the craft store. They want him to be seen enough not to draw attention to his absence, but not be put in any situations where he might annoy an official and trigger a home visit.

Kurt seems to understand the situation. Burt knows that he and Blaine have talked about Blaine’s background, late at night when they are cocooned under Kurt’s blankets, flashlights shining in their makeshift fort. He can’t help but listen in once in a while, although most of the time they are just talking about exactly the things any boys their age would talk about. But Blaine has also shown Kurt pictures of his mother and father, the ones that they now keep in a secret hiding place in Carole’s closet, and cried to Kurt about missing his family. On those nights, it’s all Burt can do to stay away, but he figures there’s a reason Blaine feels safe talking to Kurt, and he isn’t about to interfere. 

Truth be told, having Blaine around has had a dramatic effect on Kurt. He’s more thoughtful with his words (most of the time) and not as prone to snapping at Carole and Burt. He’s less likely to throw a fit when he doesn’t get his way. Although he still gets in his moods from time to time, generally all it takes to calm him down is Blaine sitting close to him and reading a book, or putting some music on for them both to listen to.

Carole tells Burt it’s what happens when you have a sibling, that you learn to get along with others. But Burt doesn’t think that’s what it is. Blaine is temperamentally just different than Kurt. His quiet demeanor compliments Kurt’s fiery passion; his tendency to mediate and bring people together shows Kurt another way of interacting.

And more than that, more than anything else, Kurt cares for Blaine, and thrives on his approval. Burt thinks it happened instantly, the moment Kurt laid eyes on the boy with the curly hair and the shy but earnest smile. It’s partly that Blaine so desperately needed a friend, and Kurt could finally be that person for someone. But it’s also just Blaine himself. He’s patient with Kurt, unruffled by Kurt’s sharper edges, and he truly seems to enjoy what he finds in Burt’s unique son. And when Blaine lets go, he’s full of a remarkable joy that spreads to everyone in his presence. Frankly, it’s hard to imagine not loving him.

*****  
 _Blaine is 13, Kurt is 14_

Blaine is sitting at the kitchen table, working on writing up their last chemistry experiment, when Kurt gets home. He likes when it’s his turn to write up their labwork, carefully detailing each step they took and what outcomes were produced. Carole is a good teacher, and Kurt is an entertaining lab partner, even if he doesn’t like chemistry as much as Blaine does. 

He hardly remembers doing schoolwork at home with his mom. It’s been years since she was killed.

The look on Kurt’s face as he brushes by Blaine and heads for his bedroom lets Blaine know that Kurt probably isn’t in the mood to proofread their lab report right now. He finishes the paragraph he is working on and sets his notes neatly inside his notebook before he follows Kurt. Blaine has found that Kurt does better if he’s given a little time to decompress when he gets in moods like this. 

“Knock-knock,” Blaine says lightly as he comes into the room. Kurt is standing in front of his desk, angrily shuffling papers around. He turns to Blaine and starts to open his mouth to yell at him, then just deflates. 

“What’s wrong?”

Kurt shakes his head, pushes by Blaine to close his bedroom door, and sits down heavily on the floor. Blaine slides down the wall until he’s next to him, their thighs almost touching. Kurt’s shorts don’t cover his knees today, and there’s still a scab on one from when they had a water fight in the backyard last week and Kurt tripped on the patio. Blaine hadn’t been sure whether Kurt was more upset about skinning his knee or getting blood on his pants, but he quickly lost track when Kurt turned the hose back on him.

Now Kurt’s knee is shaking up and down, and Blaine sets a gentle hand on his leg. “Are you okay?”

Kurt presses his lips together and shakes his head back and forth. “No. No. It’s not okay.” He turns to Blaine. “You know Martin, from the library?”

Blaine hasn’t ever met Martin, but Kurt has told him about him numerous times. “The new librarian, with the awesome shoes, that always helps you find good books for us?” Now that Kurt has turned fourteen, he is officially allowed to take books out from the young adult section, and Martin has even let Kurt order books from neighboring libraries when their own town collection fails to turn up anything interesting. 

Kurt nods. “He’s gone. The only one left is Mrs. Carter, the head librarian.”

Blaine gets a sick feeling in his stomach. Gone… he’s sure something bad has happened. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not allowed to be a librarian anymore. Mrs. Carter said he’s not ‘politically reliable’ enough to have contact with children.”

But… “Didn’t you say Martin is white?”

Kurt nods again. “Three generations both sides. He told Carole, when we first met.” It wasn’t unusual for adults to announce their heritage to each other these days, especially when they were trying to reassure another adult that they were an acceptable authority figure for their children. “That’s not why he got fired.”

The expression on Kurt’s face is fearful, and Blaine knows, suddenly, why Martin has been banished from the library. “Is it because of Jake?”

Jake is Martin’s boyfriend. They met in college and moved back home with Martin’s parents last year, when they were unable to finish school for reasons Martin hadn’t shared with Kurt. But Kurt had told Blaine about seeing Jake stop by the library to bring Martin lunch, and how happy they were together. 

Same-sex relationships aren’t technically prohibited by the government, although the liberal laws allowing same-sex marriage were reversed years ago, and confirmed by the Supreme Court justices hand-picked by Trump and his followers. More and more restrictions have been passed by state governments, although until now Blaine hadn’t heard that the “politically reliable” standard – usually used to keep immigrants out of jobs – was being used to limit opportunities for white gay Citizens.

Kurt still hasn’t answered Blaine’s question, and that’s sufficient answer in itself. Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Kurt won’t meet his gaze, and his breathing is speeding up in that way that Blaine knows means he’s trying hard to control himself. Kurt doesn’t pull his hand away. He never does.

Hand-holding isn’t a new thing between them, but Blaine thinks that recently it has taken on a new meaning. He’s not sure, though. He’s thought for a long time that Kurt is probably gay, and although they haven’t talked about it outright, he can see in Kurt’s face when they watch the news that he knows it too. Blaine almost feels like it’s his duty to hold Kurt’s hand when this happens – when someone is yelling slurs or there’s another commenter agreeing that gay marriage is bad for society. Blaine isn’t afraid to touch Kurt. No one should be.

And if Kurt isn’t ready to talk about it with Blaine, that’s fine. He doesn’t need to say anything. 

It won’t make any difference, anyway. Blaine will love Kurt no matter what. He doesn’t understand why the government hates gays any more than he understands why they hate good, hardworking people like his mom and so many other recent immigrants, but he’s not surprised any more when the government makes ridiculous decisions, or even when the country seems to go along with it.

In any case, it would be pretty hypocritical for Blaine to dislike Kurt for being gay, since Blaine is pretty sure he’s gay, too. So he holds Kurt’s hand, and he rests his head on his best friend’s bony shoulder, and he hopes with all his heart that the evil that spurs people to do hateful things stays far away from Kurt.

*****  
Blaine spends most of his days inside the house or in the backyard, not wanting to court trouble by going into town. But sometimes he and Kurt go for long bike rides through the quieter parts of their neighborhood. There’s a state park that has been closed for years, but no one seems to notice two boys riding into the woods and around the lake. 

They come home from a bike ride one day, sweaty and tired, to find Burt and Carole sitting at the kitchen table waiting for them. They must both look concerned at the sight, as Burt quickly stands and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, everything’s okay. But after you get changed, come on out and let’s talk.”

They shower and dress quickly. “Any idea what’s going on?” Blaine asks as he rummages in the closet for a clean shirt.

“Nope.” Kurt nervously smooths his hands over his jeans. “They already know we ride out to the park. Carole even came with us that time.”

But it isn’t about the park. As Burt begins to explain, Blaine wishes it were as simple as getting in trouble for going on a bike ride.

“The social worker for Kurt’s year came over today.”

Kurt’s face goes blank, and Blaine expects his looks much the same. “Mrs. Montrose? She doesn’t make home visits,” Kurt says.

“Not Mrs. Montrose. There’s someone new.” Burt taps his finger on a piece of paper lying on the table. “Mr. Parker.”

“Why did he come to the house?” Blaine asks. “Don’t they only do that if…”

“If they think there’s a problem,” Burt confirms. “This Mr. Parker didn’t come out and say why he felt the need to make a surprise visit, instead of just scheduling something at the community center. But I think he wanted to catch us off guard.”

Blaine’s hands are starting to shake and he clutches them together under the table. What if he’d been at home? He’s never been called on his story, never had to actually use the NIC card that shows his aunt and uncle as his parents. Never had to explain why he lives with the Hummels.

“Blaine?” Carole tries to catch his eye and sets her hand on his shoulder. “We don’t think he was looking for you, honey.”

“But… he was in the house.”

“And you two straightened up, just as you do every morning. He wouldn’t have seen anything amiss.” Burt and Carole had bought a trundle bed for Kurt’s room that first year, and every day they make it up neatly and slide it back under Kurt’s bed. Most of their clothes are stored together, t-shirts and jeans and sweaters all in the same drawers, even though they don’t share as many clothes as they used to. But on closer inspection, someone would be able to tell two young people were living in the house – two sets of handwriting on their homework, two toothbrushes in the hall bathroom… Blaine wondered if the social workers used DNA tests, like the crime shows on television. 

“What did he want, then?” Kurt asks, biting his lip.

“I guess you got away with not joining the junior squad. But now that you’re fourteen, he wants you to join Citizenship Pride.”

“No way – those racist idiots?” Kurt bursts out. “It’s like the Hitler Youth all over again, dad. I won’t do it - not in a million years.”

“I know, Kurt, I know.”

Kurt stands up, incensed. “They can’t make me. It’s not mandatory, I looked it up. Not even when you’re fourteen, not when you’re any age.”

“It’s not strictly mandatory,” Burt confirms, “at least not yet. But it may as well be, for the amount of scrutiny we’ll get if you don’t join.”

“Dad…” Kurt sits down, holds his hands out. “I can’t. It wouldn’t even work – I can’t pretend to be a racist homophobe. I wouldn’t make it through one meeting without screwing up. I’d just make it worse.”

“I know, son.” Burt stands up and wraps his arms around Kurt, looking over his shoulder at Blaine. “Believe me, I know. But we’ve got a plan. It’s not going to be easy, but I think if we work together, we can pull it off.”


	3. Chapter 3

Burt’s older sister Trudy had even less patience than Burt when it came to the right-wing swing the nation had undergone. Several years ago she had started talking to Burt about places people could go to escape the strict new laws and the big brother-style monitoring of what was rapidly becoming a country unafraid to legalize racism and hate. 

In the northwestern part of the country there were areas that had been so badly hit by the culling that they looked like ghost towns. The government wasn’t much interested in repopulating them or assisting the remaining residents, at least in part because they had made such a big deal out of how the hard-hit areas must be tainted. These factors, plus the rural nature of much of the available housing, made it a perfect place for people looking to put some distance between themselves and the workings of the state.

As soon as Mr. Parker had taken his meddling ass out of their house earlier that afternoon, Burt had driven into town and called Trudy, thanking his lucky stars once again that Pete down at the bowling alley still hung on to that old pay phone. Burt had often thought that Pete had reasons of his own for wanting a more anonymous means of communication, but he didn’t question Pete, and Pete never questioned him. When Burt got her on the phone, Trudy assured him that her little neck of the woods was still a viable option – the roads aren’t well maintained, there is no nearby fire station or hospital, and nothing as quaint as a public school or library – but no one will be pestering Kurt to join a group aimed at indoctrination, and no one will blink at Blaine’s parentage. His boys will be able to be themselves, even if it means a slightly different way of life from what they are used to. Burt thinks it’s as close to freedom as they can hope for.

*****  
The next morning Blaine wakes up to the sight of Kurt in unfamiliar clothes, shaking his shoulder to get his attention.

“What do you think? Tell me the truth.”

Blaine sits up and scrubs the sleep out of his eyes. A glance at the clock tells him it’s not even 7 a.m. 

Kurt is wearing an unironed plaid shirt of Blaine’s, with the buttons undone at the top, hanging untucked over the waist of his pants. He’s got on an old pair of Burt’s white sneakers, and a baseball cap that also clearly belongs to his father. The only piece of clothing that is actually Kurt’s is his jeans. 

“I know they aren’t quite right,” Kurt says, sliding his hands down his thighs, emphasizing the slim tailoring, “but no one else’s would fit me.”

Blaine stands up and puts his hands on Kurt’s shoulders. “I think you look perfectly ordinary,” he says, noting the tension in Kurt’s muscles. “Which is a real accomplishment for you.”

Kurt ducks his head, taking off the cap and tossing it across the room. “I can’t believe I have to do this.”

In order to keep Mr. Parker happy while the family gets packed and ready to move, and avoid any more surprise home visits, Kurt has agreed to show an interest in joining Citizenship Pride. Burt is going to take him into town this morning, make sure they are seen going into the rec center building where the meetings were held, stop by and talk with Mr. Parker, and generally do as much as they can to suggest that Kurt is going to fall into line. 

“You don’t have to, Kurt,” Blaine reminds him. Burt had made that clear, but both boys see how useful buying a little time can be.

“I really do. I’m just…” Kurt flops down on Blaine’s bed, toeing off the clumsy sneakers. “What if I say something wrong?”

“You won’t,” Blaine tries to reassure him. “You’re a fabulous actor. Just pretend you’re playing a role.”

“It’s not a role I want to play,” Kurt mumbles. “And what if they make me sign up right then? For the rest of my life, I’ll be on some list of racist wanna-be’s, lumped in together with the same tyrants who are making life miserable for so many people.”

Blaine sits down, making Kurt rock against him as he jostles the mattress. “Burt doesn’t think they’ll make you commit to anything at your first meeting. But even if they do, it’s not going to change who you are. You’re being forced to do this, it’s not your choice.”

“Yeah, that’s what the people who went along with the Nazis said, too.” 

“Kurt,” Blaine says firmly, twisting to catch his gaze, “you’re not sending anyone to a concentration camp today. You might have to sing some songs, or listen to some ridiculous speeches, and refrain from making snarky comments. But going to one meeting of this foul group isn’t going to make you a collaborator.”

“Doesn’t it make you sick, though, even thinking about this? I feel like throwing up,” Kurt whines, leaning his head against Blaine’s shoulder.

“I know. Me too.” Blaine sighs. “But at least you’ll get out of packing. Play your cards right, and Burt might even take you out for lunch afterwards.”

*****  
Blaine is in the garage, trying to figure out the best way to arrange two large suitcases and a duffel bag in the trunk of Carole’s car to allow even more luggage to be added, when he hears a loud knock on the front door. He freezes for a moment, his heart beating hard inside his chest, then closes the trunk as quietly as he can. 

He stands there, trembling, trying to listen to whoever has shown up at their house. No one ever comes to their door. It has to be Mr. Parker again.

Blaine can’t make it to the hiding place they created for him in the laundry room closet, he’d have to pass right through the kitchen, and be completely visible to their unexpected guest. He wonders if he should just stay in the garage. He glances around the space frantically. It’s too neat. There’s nothing to hide behind.

Carole says something from within the house, and Blaine hears a raised voice. Out of ideas, he throws himself under the car, scraping his shoulder and back as he scoots as far as he can out of sight. He presses his eyes together, silently praying to himself, _no no no don’t find me don’t come in here don’t come in here._ He can tell his breathing is going to be a problem soon as his chest grows tight, and he bites his lip as he tries not to make any noise.

The door creaks open. “Blaine? Are you in here?”

His panic spikes with the sudden sound but then the part of his brain still capable of rational thought registers the voice. Before he can bring himself to say anything, he sees Kurt crouching down, stretching his hand out to him.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s just us.”

Blaine lets his eyes fall closed, mouth wide open, panting as he struggles to get his breathing back to normal. There’s a touch on his shoulder and he turns his head, opens his eyes to see Kurt on his back under the car just like Blaine, slowly wiggling closer, a look of concern on his face.

“Kurt… you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I might say the same to you.” Kurt stops wiggling, realizes he can’t really twist on his side to look properly at Blaine, and just turns his head. “We didn’t want to open the garage door and drive in. We though you might be out here packing up, and didn’t want anyone passing by to see the boxes and stuff. So we came in through the front door.”

That makes sense, Blaine thinks. He tilts his head towards Kurt, moves closer. He may be wearing Blaine’s shirt, but he still smells reassuringly like Kurt. 

Kurt slinks his arm up next to Blaine and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s all right.” He draws in a long breath and lets it out, shaky but successful. “How was the meeting?”

Kurt barks out a laugh. “Pretty much what you’d expect.” He knocks his sneaker-clad foot against Blaine’s ankle. “How about we get out from under here and I’ll tell you about it?”

*****  
By the day they’re ready to leave, Kurt can’t believe how quickly things have come together. He’s relieved, though, more relieved than he wants to let on. Although he made light of it when he recounted his experience to Blaine, he never wants to go to another Citizenship Pride meeting again.

Kurt’s sure people can tell that he doesn’t fit in, despite his attempt to dress just like any other kid. But there’s nothing he can do about his voice, and the way that he walks, and apparently just something about his very self that gives him away. Even if he could hide who he is, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to spend his life trying to be someone he’s not, but knows that being who he is isn’t safe either.

At the meeting, the group leader for the day had led a discussion on the perils of big government, which quickly morphed into a rant against various groups of people who feel “entitled” to things they don’t deserve. The poor, the undocumented, minorities, anyone hoping for civil rights or equal treatment. They didn’t like “the gays” much either, everyone nodding in agreement when one member of the group stated her relief that homosexuals were no longer permitted to defile the sacred institution of marriage.

Burt is out in the backyard, talking with Jackson, a friend of his who he trusts to take care of the house when they leave. From what Kurt can tell, they aren’t going to sell it right away. They don’t want to draw any more attention to themselves than they can avoid. If anyone asks, they’re just off visiting relatives. If things work out, Burt will come back in a month or two and put the house on the market, or, if coming back in person seems too risky, Jackson will take care of it. 

Kurt had heard Burt and Carole whispering together the night before. Carole was concerned that they shouldn’t tell anyone at all, but Burt insisted that Jackson wouldn’t give them away. “He’s in the same boat, you know,” Burt had said. Kurt didn’t know what boat that was, exactly – Jackson looked perfectly American to him, even as the government defined it now. But maybe he was like Blaine – able to pass, but with “undesirable” heritage, as the members of Citizenship Pride called it when not enough generations of your ancestors had been born in the U.S.

Their cars have been packed full of luggage and boxes, with more boxes stacked in the laundry room closet and under the bed in Burt and Carole’s room. They’ll have them shipped, later. The house doesn’t look exactly normal to Kurt – his and Blaine’s beds are just made up with sheets, their blankets and pillows packed, the kitchen cabinets are far emptier than usual, and Carole had insisted on them straightening up the house to an unnaturally tidy standard. But he figures that it doesn’t look much different than if they were just taking a vacation. 

They wait until after dinner to leave, none of them eating very much, just nibbling at the sandwiches Blaine made them. Then they do one last circuit of the house, to make sure nothing that needs to come with them is still there, and that they haven’t left anything incriminating behind.

Blaine is standing in their little bedroom, shoulders hunched, looking smaller than usual in his t-shirt and zip-up sweatshirt. He’s staring at the bed with the string of stuffed animals lined up against the wall. It’s a much smaller group than when Kurt was little, but he hasn’t had the heart to get rid of all of them. “You sure you don’t want to take any?” Blaine asks quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe we should each pick one.” Kurt sits down on the bed and pets a little dog with fluffy ears. “You take this one, and I’ll take the cat.”

“Blackie,” Blaine says, picking up the small black cat and handing it to Kurt, who nods in agreement. 

“Boys, let’s go,” Burt calls. 

Kurt stands up and tucks the stuffed animal inside his jacket. “I’ll miss this room.” So many nights in this bed, all his life, really. And for almost as long as he can remember, now, it’s a place he has shared with Blaine. Staying up late, crammed together in Kurt’s bed, whispering under their blankets so that his parents won’t hear them. No matter what craziness is going on in the world, at night he always has his best friend to turn to. Someone who always listens, and who always understands. 

Blaine turns to him, his eyes wide and seeking. “I’ll miss it too.”

Kurt thinks that sometimes Blaine understands more than Kurt’s willing to admit.

Kurt gets in the car with Carole, and they head out first. The plan is for Burt and Blaine to follow soon after, but take a different route away from town. They’ll drive for about four hours and meet up at a motel in the next state, ready for a full day of driving tomorrow.

Carole is nervous as they wind through town, heading for the interstate. Kurt tries to distract her with gossip he and Burt heard at the diner – the cute little gift shop is closing, apparently to be replaced by another bank – but she can’t seem to shake it off. They haven’t even made it twenty miles away from home when they hear a siren and a police car pulls up close behind them, red lights flashing.

Carole pulls over and turns off the car, and Kurt is seized with a sudden fear that she’ll confess everything, that he’ll be arrested for not joining Citizenship Pride and Blaine will be sent away to the immigrant internment camps and they’ll never see each other again. But by the time the police officer approaches the window and Carole rolls it down, she’s the picture of composure.

“Good evening, officer,” she says politely. “What did I do wrong? I really don’t think I was speeding.”

“Good evening, ma’am.” The cop peers into the front seat. “No, you weren’t speeding. Going significantly under the speed limit, in fact.”

Carole actually lets out a flirty little laugh, and Kurt wonders what she was like when she was a teenager. “Please, officer, I’ve got my son in the car. I’m just trying to set a good example.”

The officer examines Carole’s and Kurt’s paperwork, takes it back to his car to do whatever it is cops do, and then returns, glancing at the back seat. “What’s with all the boxes?”

“It’s for a rummage sale at church.”

“Aren’t you going the wrong way for church?”

Carole harrumphs at him. “They’re not ready to be dropped off yet. I’m taking them to Suzie’s, she likes to sort them first so that everything is organized when we get there. Otherwise you get men’s clothes mixed in with baby clothes, fancy dresses with sweaters, it takes forever.” She pauses. “Do you want to see?”

Carole actually does have a friend named Suzie, but Kurt’s pretty sure she hasn’t been to church in years. Luckily the police officer doesn’t know that.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” The cop pauses, and Kurt hopes desperately he has something better to do tonight than keep talking to them. “All right, ma’am, have a good night. And try to pick up the pace a little. Makes you look suspicious.” He gives Carole a wink – really, it’s like something out of a bad television sitcom – returns to his car, and drives away.

Carole leans her head against the steering wheel and lets out a long, slow breath. She turns her head to Kurt. “How’d I do?”

He smiles. “An award-winning performance.”

Later that night he and Carole finally get to the motel. They pull into the parking lot next to Burt’s old Toyota. Burt and Carole go to check in, and Kurt gets into the car with Blaine to compare notes. Kurt hears Blaine’s quick intake of breath when he tells him about getting stopped by the police. He quickly recounts how well Carole handled the situation.

“I don’t know if I could do that,” Blaine says softly. “Stay so calm.” His face is illuminated briefly as another car drives by. His skins looks ghostly.

“Well, hopefully we won’t have to. When we get where we’re going, no one will care.” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand, rubs his thumb across his palm. He’s pretty sure most boys don’t do this with their male friends, but he always wants to touch Blaine, to comfort him. Blaine does the same with him. It’s just how they are. The possible reason why flits through Kurt’s mind but he pushes it away. Soon, he tells himself again. But not right now.

“I wish I didn’t cause you guys so much trouble,” Blaine says, turning to look out the window. 

“This isn’t just about you,” Kurt replies. “You know that.”

Blaine is silent for a moment before he speaks. “But it’s more serious because of me. This whole thing… it’s like a spy game, or something. I don’t want to believe it’s real – that someone is actually listening to our cell phones, actually watching what we do. That if we get caught, I could actually be taken away.” His voice cracks and he ducks his head down, hiding his face in the sleeve of his jacket.

“My dad won’t let that happen.”

Blaine swallows hard. “I know.”

But he doesn’t believe it, not completely, and Kurt understands. Burt can try, can plead for guardianship of Blaine if he’s caught, but he’s not even a distant relative. The odds will be stacked against his getting custody of Blaine, especially if Blaine’s real parentage is discovered. They’re heard enough horror stories, not just about Blaine’s cousin. It seems like everyone has a friend of a friend who has been sent to the camps, or deported, or arrested, or some combination of all three. And yet the people in charge don’t seem to care.

Kurt jumps when his father knocks on the window, and soon they have tugged their overnight bags out from the back of the car and are getting settled in the bland motel room. Kurt tries not to think too hard about how long it’s been since the puke green bedspreads have been washed, or whether the rug has ever been cleaned. 

Kurt and Blaine change into their pajamas and climb into the bed nearest the window, while Burt and Carol take the bed closer to the bathroom. Kurt hopes his dad doesn’t snore too loudly tonight. It’s weird, all sleeping in the same room. 

The curtain doesn’t close properly, and the headlights of the cars driving by are making it hard for Kurt to fall asleep. He watches the light flash across the bed, across Blaine’s curly hair on the white pillow case, across his shoulder in his blue pajama top sticking out from the blanket. Blaine’s eyes blink open, and he stretches out a hand to take Kurt’s in his.

“’Night,” Blaine whispers, holding Kurt’s gaze.

Kurt smiles at him and then closes his eyes. The world is crazy, but tonight at least he and Blaine are still safe. “’Night.”

*****  
Two days later, in the late afternoon, they reach their destination. Kurt hears his parents talking about whether to drive directly or go through other cities to confuse their trail, but he’s not sure what decision was made in the end. It does sound like they’ve gone off the deep end as far as trying to cover their tracks, but if it might help, he’s not going to object.

The changes in their surroundings have been obvious for some time, as they drive on endless swaths of highway. It looks even more bleak when they get off the interstate. While there are a few houses here and there, not many of them seem to be lived in. It’s the most sparsely populated area Kurt has ever seen, although it’s not as if he has traveled much before.

The weather is colder, too. While they had been enjoying the bright sun of spring back home, here it seems like winter is just barely letting go. Both boys have found their winter coats in the growing clutter of the back seat of Carole’s car, and while Kurt isn’t about to stoop to a winter hat, he is wishing he knew where his gloves were.

They pull into Trudy’s long driveway just behind Burt and Blaine. The old farmhouse in front of him has a wide porch and looks a lot more inviting than the run-down homes they had seen closer to the highway. It’s painted in welcoming lemon yellow with dark green shutters, and there’s a cute flower wreath on the front door.

They pile out of the cars, Burt giving Kurt a hug around the shoulders as they shake the feeling back into their legs. They hadn’t stopped long for lunch, wanting to get to Trudy’s before it got dark, instead just taking a quick bathroom break and eating granola bars and fruit from a convenience store. Burt leads them towards the front door, and Blaine sidles up next to Kurt.

“I barely remember meeting her,” Blaine says as Burt knocks. “That’s weird, right? It was only a few years ago.”

Kurt shrugs. He hadn’t had much reason to be interested in his aunt when she last visited. He thinks that was during his and Blaine’s intense Lego phase. 

Trudy grins at them as she opens the door, hugging them all and ushering them inside. She’s as tall as Burt, with red hair drawn back into a long ponytail, strands of gray at the sides. 

“I’m sure you’re hungry, so just sit down and let me get the food out.” Carole follows Trudy into the kitchen, and Burt wanders around the living room, heading back towards what Kurt assumes are the bedrooms. Kurt and Blaine sit down at the dining table. It’s a nice enough house, not very different from the one Kurt grew up in. The sofas by the fireplace look comfortable and lived in, with a crocheted throw blanket draped over one – not as if in preparation for a photo shoot, but as if whoever was sitting on the couch had just pushed it to the side when she got up. Kurt sees Blaine eyeing the piano in the corner, and hopes Blaine will get a chance to play; they didn’t have a real piano at home, just a keyboard that is currently buried somewhere in the trunk of Burt’s car.

Trudy and Carole bring out a tray of lasagna, an overflowing bowl of salad, and several loaves of garlic bread. With a quick glance at Burt to make sure it’s okay to dig in, Kurt helps himself, and then slides the bread over to Blaine, who gives him a wry smile. Blaine is a big fan of garlic bread, and tends to make it as many times as he can get away with, when it’s his night to help with dinner.

Kurt zones out a bit as his parents and Trudy talk. He’s tired, even though he hasn’t been doing anything except sitting in the car all day.

“There she is,” Trudy announces, pulling Kurt out of his daze. He looks up to see a woman with wavy dark hair coming towards the table. She leans down and gives Trudy a quick kiss – on the lips – and then turns to see everyone, frowning at Trudy.

“You didn’t tell them about me, did you?” The woman’s tone is light, as if she expected no less.

“That would have ruined the surprise,” Trudy replies. “Everyone, this is Ana – Ana, everyone.”

“Ana Maria Morales, pleased to meet you all at last,” she says, giving a mock curtsey. Burt and Carole get out of their chairs to say hello and introduce themselves, and Ana waves at Kurt and Blaine as they say hi. They all sit back down, Burt shifting over so that Ana can sit next to Trudy.

Kurt wonders if Ana is the reason Trudy decided to move out here. If so, they owe her a thank you.

Kurt soon grows bored of the adults’ conversation – there’s something about Ana’s job that sparks Carole’s interest, statistics and insurance and odds, but it sounds deadly dull to Kurt. He thinks Blaine pretty much feels the same way, and pokes him hard in the arm when his eyes slip closed.

“Why don’t I give you boys a tour?” Trudy says, and Kurt quickly looks up, hoping he hadn’t been rude. But Trudy doesn’t seem upset, and Burt just gives him a smile as he helps Carole clear the table.

Kurt’s not sure there’s much to see, but stands up and Blaine does the same. Trudy tells them to get their coats, and then walks them quickly through the house, pointing out the rooms where they’ll be staying for now, how to get down to the basement, the various bathrooms, and other details Kurt is sure he’ll forget before he has to use them (doing laundry has never been his favorite activity). Then she heads to the kitchen and brings them out the back door.

With the sun just starting to set, there’s a golden light cast over the grassy field behind the house. The whole area looks quite a bit nicer than it had during the day. Trudy points out the barn, with a chicken house behind it (“Kurt, she has real chickens!” Blaine exclaims in a poorly hushed whisper), the vegetable garden, which looks pretty impressive to Kurt, although he doesn’t have much to judge it against, and a shed which she doesn’t bother unlocking for them.

The fields behind the house seem to stretch out endlessly, and Kurt sees Blaine holding back as they walk further away from the buildings. Trudy sees it, too.

“You don’t have to worry,” she says, turning to Blaine. “No one is looking at you out here.” She gazes up at the sky. “We don’t even get drones, not even for harmless stuff.”

“How do you know?” Blaine’s voice is tight. 

“There are people here who are pretty much full time off-the-grid devotees,” Trudy says. “Not us – we’ve got wifi, and we pay our taxes, and still participate in the economy. But some of our neighbors take it a few steps further. We’ve got data security experts, survivalists… and all of them are willing to share their expertise, especially if we throw in some eggs.” She glances over at the chicken coop, smiling. “Guess if you sit in front of a computer all day long, you don’t have time to feed the chickens.”

Blaine still doesn’t look convinced. Kurt thinks he understands how he feels – Blaine’s spent his life hiding, staying indoors or under the trees, avoiding public places unless they were sure he wasn’t going to get carded. It’s got to be strange to be so exposed, even if there doesn’t seem to be another soul around for miles.

Kurt moves next to Blaine, stands near enough to him to feel his body heat through his thin zip-up jacket. He looks like he might just turn around and go back inside. 

“You don’t have to stay out here,” Trudy says gently. “The outdoors isn’t going to go away, you can ease into it. But it’s not like where you used to live, I promise.”

Kurt slides his hand around Blaine’s arm, gives it a squeeze. “We can go inside and help my dad unpack.”

“We might as well,” Trudy agrees. “And you know, you don’t have to take my word for it, about this place.” She gives Blaine a pointed look, and he frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Ana’s parents are both undocumented. She was born in the U.S, but you know how much good that does these days if your parents aren’t ‘legal.’” Trudy makes quotes around the words with her fingers. “I wouldn’t stay here for a minute if she wasn’t comfortable here.”

*****  
Later that night, Blaine and Kurt are on the pull-out sofa bed in the room that serves as Ana and Trudy’s office. Apparently working from home is the norm around here. Kurt can’t get comfortable. The mattress is thin, and he thinks he can feel the springs poking at him. Worse, the bed squeaks every time he turns over.

“We should give up,” Blaine says.

“What?” Kurt turns towards Blaine, ignoring the way his shoulder blade seems to push right through the mattress into the wires underneath. “No, no way.” He pulls at Blaine’s shoulder until he turns towards him. “It’s gonna be okay here, you just have to give it a chance.”

Blaine stares at Kurt for a minute, then breaks into a wide grin. “You dope. I meant this bed. It’s awful.”

Kurt laughs and kicks Blaine in the shin. “You’re awful. And I don’t know what other choice we have.”

“We could try putting the mattress on the floor? At least then it wouldn’t squeak.”

Kurt agrees, and they climb out of the bed, being careful not to scrape themselves on the metal frame. It’s not too difficult to slide the mattress out and on to the floor, although there’s barely enough room for it. They decide to fold up the sofa without the mattress in it, freeing up a bit more space, and are just about to put the blankets back on their masterpiece when there’s a knock on their door.

It creaks open to reveal Burt and Trudy. Trudy has a quizzical expression on her face, while Burt just looks fondly resigned.

“I’m sorry, were we too loud?” Blaine asks, ever the polite one.

“The horrible squeaking noises gave you away,” Burt says.

“We’ll put it back tomorrow,” Kurt promises. “We just think it will be more comfortable this way.”

“Not that it wasn’t comfortable before,” Blaine jumps in, trying not to offend, then looks helplessly at Kurt as he realizes how little sense this makes.

“Well, Kurt never could stop himself from redecorating a place,” Burt says gruffly, shrugging his shoulders at Trudy. “You might as well get used to it.”

Trudy’s expression now mirrors the amused look on Burt’s face, as she gazes around the room. Kurt follows her eyes, noticing that they have in fact pretty much moved every piece of furniture to accommodate their plan. 

“You might actually like the desk better over there,” Blaine says, pointing to where they have moved it. “You’ll get better light from the window, and will be able to see out to the garden.”

“We can push the bookcase a little closer,” Kurt says, as Blaine comes over to help him give it a shove, “and that way all your notebooks and files will be within reach.”

Blaine nods earnestly, and Kurt demonstrates by sitting in the chair and leaning over to the shelves.

“Well, I have to say, you boys make a pretty good team,” Trudy says, shooting a glance at Burt. Kurt’s not sure what she’s thinking, but he’s moderately confident that at least they aren’t in trouble.

“They sure are.” Burt says, then comes over and gives them each a pat on the shoulder before leaving them to their own devices. Trudy says goodnight and closes the door behind her.

They finish making their bed and get under the covers. Kurt can still smell the toothpaste on Blaine’s breath. 

“I think I like Trudy,” Blaine says softly.

Kurt nods. “Me too.”

“I think she likes us, too.” Blaine looks like he’s about to say something more, but then shakes his head a little and snuggles deeper into the blankets. “’Night, Kurt.”

“’Night, Blaine.” As he’s drifting off to sleep, Kurt wonders why Trudy’s approval seems to hold so much weight with them both. He wonders what Trudy sees when she looks at the two of them. He’s not sure he knows, himself, but he’s starting to let himself hope.


	4. Chapter 4

_Blaine is 16, Kurt is almost 17_

Dev Patel is tall, taller than Kurt. He’s Indian, with dark, perfect hair, eyes that sparkle, and lovely caramel colored skin. And Kurt hates him.

Not because he’s not U.S. born, of course, that would be crazy. And not because he’s taller than Kurt, broader in the shoulders, able to grow some stubble, or ridiculously attractive overall. But because of how he looks at Blaine.

It’s been a little more than two years since Kurt and his family moved out to the northwest. They had lived with his Aunt Trudy and pretty-much Aunt Ana for a few months, then found a house of their own not too far away. It was a little smaller than the ranch house Kurt had grown up in, but it had two little rooms on the second floor that were all for Kurt and Blaine.

There had been a bit of confusion when they first moved in, with Carole assuming each boy would now get his own room, and Burt just shaking his head as Kurt and Blaine shifted both twin beds into one room and their desks into the other. “We do our work together all the time,” Kurt explained, eyes wide and face innocent. “It wouldn’t make any sense to sit in separate rooms to do our homework.”

Blaine nodded along, babbling something about teamwork and collaboration and learning styles and Kurt praised himself for keeping a straight face. He was a good actor, after all. Not that Burt was buying it, but he didn’t much care.

Neither upstairs room was large, and there was really only one way to fit both twin beds in to the same room - parallel to each other with just enough space for a small nightstand in between. Still, it was further apart than they used to be, in the old house with Blaine’s trundle bed pulled out right next to Kurt’s. 

Kurt was excited about their own little world on the second floor – no parents on the other side of the wall, no one walking by in the hallway to peek inside their room late at night. They even had their own tiny bathroom. Except things didn’t turn out exactly the way he had hoped. As Blaine grew more comfortable with their surroundings, it almost seemed like Kurt had fewer excuses to reach out and touch him. Blaine didn’t need hugs as often. Maybe he didn’t even need Kurt as often.

Every once in a while things would go back to normal, Kurt joining Blaine in his bed to watch a movie on their shared laptop, or Blaine climbing in with Kurt after a particularly bad dream. Those nights were heaven, and torture, as Kurt carefully allowed himself just enough closeness to soothe his aching spirit, but not enough to seem inappropriate. At least, hopefully not.

He caught Blaine looking longingly at him sometimes, as if Blaine missed their casual familiarity too. But Blaine never said anything, and Kurt couldn’t bring himself to say anything, either. Whether or not Blaine was his brother – and his feelings about Blaine definitely, definitely, weren’t brotherly – they were part of a family. They lived together, and Kurt wanted them to continue to live together forever, if he had any say in the matter. Kurt couldn’t risk screwing things up just because he was lonely for his best friend in a way that you weren’t supposed to be lonely for your best friend.

But after Kurt turns sixteen, and then Blaine does too, Kurt gets impatient. He tries to think of something to do to impress Blaine. He should have known that his impulsivity would wind up kicking him in the ass.

Kurt’s bright idea is to have them join a group of teens that volunteer to do odd jobs for people in the community. It’s not as if he and Blaine don’t ever see other kids – there’s a movie theater about an hour away that they go to occasionally, and they make frequent trips to the hiking trails nearby. Trudy and Ana have other friends with children, and they’ve made some family friends through those get-togethers. But until Kurt’s bright idea, they really hadn’t run into any other gay teens their own age. Certainly not gay, ridiculously attractive teens that seemed to want to take a bite out of Blaine.

It doesn’t help that Blaine is so much more suited for the activities the group engages in than Kurt is. Clearing someone else’s garden or helping them put up a chicken shed seems so very quaint, like something out of _Little House on the Prairie_ or an Amish barn raising. Kurt says as much to Blaine, but Blaine just frowns a little at him and goes on sorting two by fours and chicken wire.

Dev, on the other hand, is like Blaine on steroids. Pun intended. Dev is the de facto leader of the group, finding good deeds for them to do, and sweet talking the old ladies who ask for their assistance. No project is too menial for Dev, no request too great. And Dev recognizes right away that Blaine is his perfect right hand man, with his sunny smile and his easy going disposition, leaving Kurt to mutter and grumble on the sidelines.

Today they are helping an older couple clean out their attic. One would think this type of job would be relatively simple, but Dev finds a way to insert himself into every facet of it regardless. He organizes them into groups, and gives each group a specific task. Dev’s job – besides being in charge and giving orders – is to take a first look at the item and hand it down the ladder to Blaine, after which Blaine places it in the appropriate space for further sorting, cleaning, or just to be taken out to the trash heap.

One advantage of today’s task is that it allows Kurt to stare more or less without censor as he watches Blaine reach up to take heavy items from Dev and then carry them about the room. It is midsummer, and overly warm inside the house where they are working, so Blaine has stripped down to his white tank top, like some of the other boys. His arms have been changing of late, much like the rest of his body, and looking at all that exposed skin and slightly rounded muscle is doing things to Kurt.

Dev looks far too good as well. He’s got on a thin t-shirt, but he’s damp with sweat, and Kurt can swear he see actual abs on his chest through the thin cotton. Dev’s khaki shorts are hanging low on his hips, the tops of his blue striped boxers just visible. Kurt wants to yell at him to pull up his pants, but then Dev would know Kurt was looking at him, and he’s not going to give him that satisfaction.

Kurt of course keeps his shirt on. It’s a nicely fitted short sleeve button-up, turquoise with a dark blue thread running through it, and really not the kind of thing he should be wearing to clean out an attic. But Kurt doesn’t let that bother him; every day is a chance to be fashionable. And to make sure Blaine doesn’t fall for Dev instead of him.

The one saving grace about this whole situation is that as much as Dev is obviously into Blaine, flirting outrageously with him and praising his every move, Blaine apparently remains oblivious. 

At least Kurt doesn’t have to wonder anymore if Blaine’s disinterest is because Blaine might be straight. Last year they had managed to get their hands on copies of _Magic Mike_ and _Magic Mike XXL_ on DVD. It isn’t far into the first movie before both of them turn to each other, eyes wide and pupils blown, and say “yup, gold star gay.” It is a moment of synchronicity that Kurt treasures. 

When they’re done for the afternoon, Dev tells the group about his plan for their next meeting, two weeks from now. They’ll be helping clear brush on the edge of a lake, and he suggests that everyone bring their swim suits so that they can go in the water when their task is finished. Dev is taking count of who can attend, everyone raising their hands, when Kurt slides up next to Blaine and pulls his arm down.

“We can’t go,” Kurt says. He’s frantically trying to figure out what excuse to give, because there’s no way he’s letting Dev ogle Blaine in his tiny red swim trunks, when Blaine suddenly looks contrite. 

“Of course, Kurt, I can’t believe I forgot.”

So had Kurt, in all his concern over Dev. Two weeks from today is Kurt’s seventeenth birthday.

*****  
It’s another ridiculously hot day. Blaine doesn’t understand how anyone doesn’t believe in climate change. This part of the country is simply not designed for weather like this.

When the boys had slumped downstairs this morning, damp from another night sweltering under their ineffective ceiling fan, Burt had announced that he expected them to finish cleaning the gutters by this afternoon. They had started this fascinating project a few weeks ago, but had been waiting for a cooler day to continue. Apparently Burt has other ideas.

So now they are out in back, Kurt up on a ladder, Blaine down on the patio. Kurt is tossing down piles of dusty leaves and assorted slimy dirt clumps while Blaine tries to scoop them up without anything landing on his head. Blaine’s got one of Burt’s baseball caps on to keep the sun out of his face but it just makes his head hotter, and he strips it off and goes to run his head under the hose.

“Want to take a water break?” he asks Kurt, but Kurt just replies by throwing another pile of muck down.

“I just want to finish this section,” Kurt says. “It’s disgusting. I think some animals considered taking up residence but decided it was too gross.”

Blaine feels a little awkward, looking at up Kurt from this angle. Kurt’s wearing an old pair of cut-off denim shorts that are a little too tight on him, and a t-shirt that is now drenched in sweat. From below, it’s quite an interesting view.

He tries to occupy himself with plans for Kurt’s birthday. It’s less than a week away, and Blaine still hasn’t figured out exactly what to do. He’s got the basics down – ingredients for a particularly decadent chocolate cake are stashed in the back of the kitchen cabinets, and a new biography of a fashion icon that Kurt admires is already wrapped and hidden in Carole’s sweater drawer. But cake and presents aren’t the only things Blaine wants to give Kurt for his birthday. He wants to give him the truth.

Blaine doesn’t want to just blurt it out. It’s why he hasn’t said anything yet, hasn’t done anything. Has actually tried harder to put a little space between them lately, just to prevent any unfortunate physical reactions. Because Kurt deserves a big romantic gesture, not just a fumbling, apologetic confession. There’s no one else that’s going to give it to him in this godforsaken place, and Blaine is determined not to mess up his chance to woo Kurt properly.

Blaine is pretty sure that Kurt will be receptive. Most of the time, anyway. There have been a few mixed signals, but Blaine recognizes that he’s probably been acting the same way. Add to that the _looks_ Burt gives them, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in the tent. Not that Burt seems upset at the idea, but his curiosity is misplaced, at least for now, and that somehow almost makes it worse.

Blaine shakes his head, water droplets flying off all around him. He watches the water soak immediately into the pavement of the patio. They had to do some work on the house when they had first moved in, repainting the outside and inside, and fixing a corner of the roof, but they had decided not to touch the concrete slab in the back, despite its less than perfect condition. It works just fine as a space for their outdoor table and chairs, and Carole’s potted plants that are currently wilting in the heat.

Blaine wipes a hand across the back of his neck and slides his fingers through his wet curls. He’s just about to complain once more about the hellish temperature when he hears a scream and a sickening thump.

He whips around to the sight of Kurt lying on the pavement, and he’s moving towards him before he can even begin to process what has happened.

“Kurt? Kurt?”

There’s a sharp pain in his knees as he lands on the ground. Kurt is lying on his back, his head turned to the side, eyes closed. There’s a trickle of blood seeping out under his hair.

Blaine screams for help, his hands fluttering over Kurt’s cheek and down to his shoulder. “Kurt, are you okay? Can you hear me? Kurt?”

He leans close as Kurt moans, and keeps talking to him. “Kurt, it’s going to be okay. You’re okay, just hang in there, you’re okay.” Kurt doesn’t make any sign that he hears Blaine. 

Burt appears next to him, then Carole, and Blaine sits back on his knees, one hand still stretched out to touch Kurt’s side. He doesn’t even realize he’s stopped breathing until Carole is next to him, a hand on his back, whispering words into his ears. He’s getting that dizzy black swirling feeling but he fights it, struggles to stay present for Kurt.

They can’t call an ambulance – there isn’t one that would come. No hospital within an hour’s drive. Blaine looks at Kurt, motionless now on the hot pavement, and feels like he’s drowning.

Burt is holding a towel to Kurt’s head, and Carole’s on the phone, talking quickly with someone. “She’ll be here soon,” Carole says, and although Blaine has no idea what she’s talking about, it still makes him feel better.

Carole stands and tries to get Blaine to come into the house, but he won’t get up. He’s not leaving Kurt. She gives up and moves away, then returns with a glass of ice water and a cool cloth for his head. He drinks the water, his hands shaking, but touches the cloth to Kurt’s chest instead. 

When their visitors arrive Blaine recognizes Dr. Lee and her daughter Alice. Dr. Lee lives not too far away, and has helped them out with various small needs in the past. He wonders if she has any experience with head trauma. But her voice is calm, and she shoos them away as she examines Kurt.

“Let’s get him inside,” she says finally, as Blaine blinks muzzily in her direction.

“Is it okay to move him?” Blaine asks, his voice sounding echo-y and strange.

“He’ll be fine, Blaine. Nothing’s broken, he just hit his head.”

That didn’t sound fine to Blaine, but Burt and Dr. Lee proceed to pick Kurt up and slowly move him into the house. 

Blaine tries to follow, but his legs are wobbly. “Let me give you a hand,” Alice says, and pulls his arm over her shoulder. She’s stronger than she looks.

Dr. Lee lays Kurt on the couch and makes the rest of them wait in the kitchen. Blaine is still shaking, and can’t seem to focus on anything around him. Carole puts a blanket around his shoulders, which seems odd to him since he was just so hot a minute ago, but he just puts his head down on the table and waits. Soon it will make sense. It has to.

Dr. Lee comes back into the room. “Kurt clearly hit his head hard, but he’s responding to stimulus. He doesn’t need stitches. He’s sleeping deeply, it’s his body’s response to the trauma. Let him rest for a while, and keep a close eye on him. If he doesn’t wake up by six o-clock, call me.”

“What if he’s really hurt? Should we really just let him lie there?”

Dr. Lee turns to Blaine. “I don’t think there’s any damage that could be addressed better in a medical facility, at least not from what I can tell.” She looks at Burt and Carole. “And the trip to get him there might well do more harm than good. Just keep an eye on him, and call me if there is any change.” She sighs. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got another patient who needs my attention. I promise to come back if you need me.”

Blaine can’t even look at Burt and Carole. He’s not waiting for permission. He just goes into the living room and sits down on the floor next to Kurt. 

Kurt’s face is pale, and his hair on one side of his head is matted from the blood. There’s a towel under his head, and a light blanket draped over his body. Blaine takes his hand and rubs his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. “Kurt, it’s me. You’re okay. I’m right here.” There’s no sign that Kurt hears him. Blaine leans his forehead against Kurt’s side, and keeps on talking to him. He sings songs, interspersed with assurances that everything is going to be okay. Eventually he falls asleep.

“Blaine, honey?” Blaine blinks open his eyes, immediately sees Kurt lying still, and it all rushes back. Carole is trying to get his attention. She’s got a plate in her hands.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know. But just take a few bites. You’ll feel better.”

Blaine doubts it, but he complies. His whole body is stiff from leaning against the couch, so he shifts around to try and ease his muscles. “Did he wake up at all?”

Carole shakes her head. “Not yet. But it hasn’t been long. Not even four o’clock.”

Blaine hands his plate back to her, and downs the water she hands him. Then he turns back to Kurt. He leans in close, whispers in his ear. “Okay, Kurt, you can wake up now. Time to get up.” Again, no response. 

“Please, Kurt. You have to wake up. I can’t do this without you.” The enormity of the situation is pressing down on him. Since his family was killed, he’s always had Kurt. He never truly imagined a life without him. He always figured that eventually they’d work out their feelings for each other, as awkward as it might be, and live happily ever after. When he was with Kurt, all the hatred in the world didn’t matter. It couldn’t touch them when they were together.

He runs a finger gently across Kurt’s forehead, pushing his hair away from his face. “You have to wake up, Kurt. Please. I love you. I love you so much.” He goes back to holding Kurt’s hand, limp and lifeless in his own, and finds a space to put his head on the couch next to Kurt’s. Maybe if Kurt can just hear him breathing, he’ll keep breathing too.

“Hurts,” Blaine finally hears. He sits up, looking around the room. He figures it was Kurt who said it, but his eyes are still closed. 

“Kurt? Say something. It’s me, it’s Blaine, I’m right here.” He pets Kurt’s shoulder, squeezes his hand. “Come on, please, talk to me.”

Kurt’s eyes flutter but still don’t open. “My head hurts,” he says softly, a tear sliding down the side of his face.

“Oh, baby, I know, I know,” Blaine says. “You fell off the ladder outside, landed on the patio.”

“Ugly patio.” Kurt had been the biggest proponent of doing away with the concrete slab, but practicality had won out.

“It is. It’s the worst patio ever.” Blaine can’t help it, he leans in and practically kisses Kurt on the cheek, pressing close against him. 

“Kurt, buddy, it’s dad. Can you open your eyes for me?” Burt appears next to him, reaching down to put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder.

Kurt squeezes his eyes tighter first, then blinks them open. 

“You hit your head pretty hard,” Burt explains. “We were worried about you.”

“I remember.” Kurt licks his lips, swallows. “I was part way down, and then I just slipped…” Kurt moves his legs a little bit, looking at his body to watch it move. “Am I all right?”

“You will be, kid. You just need some rest.”

Kurt sags back against the couch. “Hurts like hell.”

“I’ll call Dr. Lee and see if we can give you some painkillers.” Burt gives Kurt’s shoulder a light touch, then goes to the kitchen to get the phone. Carole is standing in the doorway, and when Burt reaches her she pulls him into a tight hug, both of them clinging together for a long moment.

Kurt reaches out a shaky hand to touch Blaine’s cheek. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.” Blaine hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“Kurt,” Blaine chokes out, “You could have…”

“Shh, come here.” Kurt holds out his arms and Blaine lays his head on his shoulder. Kurt hisses as Blaine jostles him but when Blaine tries to pull back, Kurt just holds him tighter. The irony of the situation isn’t lost on Blaine – Kurt is the one who almost fell to his death, but now he’s comforting Blaine.

“God, I’m glad you’re okay,” Blaine says, wiping his face and settling more comfortably against Kurt on the couch. “Promise to never do that again.”

Kurt smiles weakly, bumps his head against Blaine’s. “I promise.”

Dr. Lee comes back a little while later. She shoos Blaine away to examine Kurt again, and Carole takes his arm and walks him upstairs. 

“Why don’t you take a shower? You’ll feel better. Kurt will probably go back to sleep – we’ll help him get upstairs.”

Blaine complies, and Carole is right – he does feel better after a hot shower. But he doesn’t waste any time in the process, drying off quickly and giving his hair a quick rub down before emerging, wanting to return to Kurt as soon as he can. 

Carole catches him as he comes out of the bathroom and tells him to set their alarm for two hours from now. “We’ll treat it like a concussion, just in case. And be sure to come get me or Burt if you need us, Blaine. For anything.”

Carole gives him a hug, and Blaine leans into it for a moment. Carole’s probably the calmest member of their household. Blaine closes his eyes and tries to let her confidence seep into him.

When Blaine goes into their bedroom, Kurt is curled up on his side. He’s facing the open window, a light sheet draped over him up to his waist. Carole must have helped him change his clothes, because his dirty t-shirt is gone, replaced by one of the light tank tops he wears to sleep in the summer. It’s still light out, not even seven o’clock, and even though the shade is pulled down Blaine can see the angry scrape down the side of Kurt’s exposed shoulder. He wonders how badly bruised Kurt is where he can’t see.

Blaine moves quietly around the room, putting on a white tank of his own, and a light pair of pajama pants over his briefs. Then he carefully climbs into bed with Kurt, sliding his legs under the sheet where he can feel the warmth of Kurt’s body. He’s not quite touching him, but he can hear his breathing. It’s soothing. 

Blaine knows he’s not going to fall asleep anytime soon. He lies still on his back and waits. He’s actually looking forward to having the alarm go off so he can wake Kurt up and see his eyes again. He doesn’t want to think about what would happen if he never could.

Kurt stirs just before the two hour mark and twists his head around to see Blaine behind him. His beautiful blue eyes look right at Blaine, and Blaine feels his heart fill.

“Hi,” Blaine says softly. “You’re right on time.” Blaine fumbles with the clock, sets the alarm for another two hours, then flops back down on his back.

“Mmm,” Kurt says. “Always like to be punctual.” Kurt reaches behind himself, tugs Blaine’s arm around his waist, and pulls his hand up to his chest. Blaine slides closer as Kurt pulls him, his chest pressed against Kurt’s back, his hand warm in Kurt’s. It’s probably the most intimate they’ve ever been, at least since they knew what it meant. 

Blaine’s face is tucked against the back of Kurt’s neck, and he breathes in the smell of him, still faintly sweaty from this afternoon. He’s the same Kurt he’s always been, the same beautiful, amazing person who has been his best friend for so long, but there’s something different now.

“I love you too,” Kurt says into the quiet.

Blaine freezes, suddenly uncertain. “You heard me, before.” 

Kurt holds Blaine’s hand tight against his chest, ducks his head down and presses a kiss to Blaine’s knuckles. “Yeah. I did.”

Blaine draws in a deep breath. “I had wanted to tell you properly. On your birthday next week, with some big gesture. Something you’d remember.”

“Well, this was certainly dramatic enough to remember,” Kurt says mildly.

Blaine huffs out a laugh, and hugs Kurt tight against him. “Near-fatal injury was really not what I had in mind.”

There’s a pause. “You meant it though, right?” Kurt voice is tentative.

“What?” Blaine rises up on an elbow, peers around at Kurt. His blue eyes are wide. “Of course I did. Kurt… I love you so much. More than anything.”

Kurt turns in his arms and he’s right there, right in front of him. Blaine can’t see anything except Kurt’s clear blue eyes, looking intently into his own, reflecting back all the love he’s felt for so long.

“May I kiss you?” Blaine whispers.

Kurt nods, and Blaine leans down and presses his lips gently against Kurt’s. He’s beginning to wobble with how he’s holding himself up, so he lies back down on his side and Kurt follows, turning to face him and putting a hand up to his cheek.

Kurt’s lips are warm and soft, and when they pull apart his shy smile is the most adorable thing Blaine has ever seen. “Again?” Kurt asks, his mouth ticking up in the corner, and they come together again, this time a bit bolder. Kurt’s tongue touches at his lips, and Blaine opens his mouth, melting against Kurt as they both begin to explore, Kurt’s hand sliding up into Blaine’s hair and Blaine grabbing at Kurt’s shoulder.

When they finally come up for air, Kurt’s eyes are sparkling. “Did I mention I love you?”

Blaine can feel his grin stretching his face. “Yeah, I think you did.”

Kurt lets his head back down on the pillow, and then grimaces.

“What? Does it hurt?” 

Kurt nods, lifts his head up and resettles. “It’s worse on this side.”

Blaine is drawn out of their little bubble by the memory of what happened just this afternoon. “Do you want me to get your dad? See if you can have some more ibuprofen?” He strokes Kurt’s shoulder, his skin so warm and soft, then remembers how scraped up his other arm is. “Wait, does this hurt?”

Kurt snorts a little bit. “No, I’d tell you.” Kurt carefully shifts on to his back, still holding Blaine’s gaze. “Want me to give you a run down of my aches and pains?”

“You don’t need to downplay it. You fell off a ladder.” Blaine sends out a silent thank you to the universe that Kurt hadn’t been up higher when he fell.

“It really isn’t that bad. Mostly this side,” Kurt indicates, “my hip and shoulder, and my head. I’ll probably have some impressive bruises, but nothing too awful.”

Blaine sighs. “I can’t believe you didn’t break anything.”

“Yeah, then they would have had to take me to the hospital. Can’t imagine that would have been a fun ride.” Kurt reaches out to turn Blaine’s face to him with a finger to his jaw. “Hey, what is it?”

Blaine shakes his head. “I was pretty upset after you fell. I may have been kind of rude to Dr. Lee.”

“Rude? You? That seems unlikely,” Kurt says, smiling. But Blaine can’t smile back, and Kurt’s smile fades. “It can’t be that bad. What happened?”

Blaine shrugs. “She left, even though you hadn’t woken up yet. It just seemed wrong to me.”

“Probably she knew I wasn’t hurt that badly.”

Maybe. But it hadn’t seemed that way to Blaine. Dr. Lee was fairly noncommittal, and yet she still left. “I guess it’s just part of living out here.”

Kurt frowns. “You aren’t about to blame something that didn’t even go wrong on us living here because of you, are you? Because this fucked up world isn’t your fault, Blaine.”

Blaine has to smile at Kurt’s convoluted question, but hearing him say it at least gives voice to a worry that has been building inside him all day long. “I know. But what if something really did go wrong, something where having the nearest hospital be so far away really made a difference?”

“I guess that’s just the trade-off we’re making.” Kurt bites his lip. “But if you’re really worried, if you think we’re doing the wrong thing, you should talk to my dad.”

“And what? Ask him to move somewhere else? Where you’d have to spout homophobic bullshit, and toe the line with the crazy fascists?”

“And where we couldn’t do this,” Kurt says, running his hand down Blaine’s side to his hip, and then leans in to place a sweet kiss on his lips. “Not to mention the risks you’d be running. It’s a toss-up, Blaine. We can’t have everything.”

Blaine’s heart warms at the look Kurt gives him, holding his cheek as he moves forward again for another kiss.

“No, it’s not true,” Blaine breathes out. “We do have everything.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“We have each other.”

Kurt blushes. “You may be the sappiest person I’ve ever met.” He brushes another kiss across Blaine’s lips. “And I love it.”

“I love you,” Blaine says. They just stare into each other’s eyes for a moment until Blaine rubs his nose against Kurt’s in a gentle butterfly kiss. 

Kurt closes his eyes and sighs. “Thank you for being brave enough to tell me how you felt. I couldn’t figure out how to do it.”

Blaine snorts. “That wasn’t bravery. That was panic.”

Kurt opens his eyes, gives Blaine an appraising look. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It was hardly your fault.”

Kurt’s eyes drift closed again, and he shuffles his arm under the pillow, trying to get comfortable.

“You should really go back to sleep,” Blaine says softly. “Why don’t you turn over, give your head a rest?” 

Kurt complies, and Blaine thrills at the easy way he reaches back for Blaine again, tugging his arm over his waist once more.

“You’ll stay with me, right?” Kurt asks, threading his fingers together with Blaine’s.

Blaine pulls Kurt close against his chest. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Dev Patel is the name of a real life actor - this was entirely a coincidence :)


	5. Chapter 5

_Blaine is 16, Kurt is 17_

For two teenage boys who share a bedroom, things don’t progress as quickly in the intimacy department as Kurt had thought they might. This is fine with him – there’s something a little funny about acting on the fantasies he’s had for so long with his parents just downstairs. Even though he knows they wouldn’t be bothered by it, it still wigs him out a little bit.

And he doesn’t think anything could be better than the easy closeness that has been building between him and Blaine over the past few months. It’s a ridiculously wonderful thing to lie out in the field on a picnic blanket with Blaine, reading to each other and sharing soft kisses every once in a while. Now he can nuzzle into Blaine while they watch movies on his bed, hold his hand under the table at dinner, and receive the very best back rubs of his life. And he knows it means more than it used to. They both know it.

It’s not that they don’t have make-out sessions that border on the hot and heavy – they do – but they haven’t gone much further than shirts off and occasional over-the-pants hands wandering down to give an exploratory caress. From the way Blaine’s breath catches when Kurt cups his ass, he figures they have a lot to look forward to.

Then one day over lunch Burt and Carole announce that they are going to take a trip to go shopping a few towns over, see a movie, and not be back until late that night. 

“He thinks it was _his_ idea to take me on a date,” Carole says, whispering across the kitchen table as Burt goes out to the car. “Don’t ruin it for him.” She gives them both a squeeze and follows Burt outside.

“Make good choices,” Kurt calls out, and Blaine laughs soft and warm in his ear.

“Don’t tease them too much,” Blaine says, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind. “We could have a date, too.”

Kurt turns to look at Blaine, who cocks his head and does that wiggly thing with his eyebrows that always makes Kurt giggle. “What kind of date did you have in mind?”

Blaine shrugs his shoulders, a flirtatious look in his eyes. “I don’t know…” He steps away, runs his fingers down Kurt’s arm and takes his hand. “Maybe we could go upstairs and brainstorm?”

“Upstairs?” Kurt grins, following Blaine down the hall. “Why would we need to go upstairs for that?”

“Because it’s more comfortable than a blanket in the garden.”

“For brainstorming.”

“Yup. And more private.”

“Because this will be a very confidential conversation.”

“Obviously.”

They’ve reached their bedroom, and Blaine moves up into Kurt’s space, resting his forearms on Kurt’s shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They kiss gently for a few minutes, then Kurt slides his hands under Blaine’s polo shirt, lets his fingers explore. Blaine is broader than he is, with just a smattering of dark hair in the middle of his chest. Despite being almost a year older, Kurt still doesn’t have any hair there to speak of. But the differences between them just add to the excitement. 

Blaine ducks down to trail kisses under Kurt’s jaw, and Kurt hums with contentment. “God, that feels so good, Blaine.”

Kurt slides Blaine’s shirt up and off, and takes a moment to admire his gorgeous boyfriend. “You have the most lovely shoulders,” he says, running his hands from Blaine’s neck down to his arms. “And these biceps. Where did they come from?”

Blaine blushes, and Kurt goes back to kissing him. Blaine has always been shy, especially compared to Kurt. It’s endlessly endearing. 

After a particularly passionate series of kisses that leaves Kurt breathless, Blaine pulls back. He deftly unbuttons Kurt’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders, trailing his fingers down the skin on Kurt’s arms. Blaine shuffles closer, moving Kurt backwards until the back of his legs hit his bed. Kurt climbs up, and Blaine follows, curling on his side and tracing his fingers over Kurt’s bare chest.

Blaine lets a fingertip slide over a nipple, and Kurt sucks in a breath. Blaine looks up, smiling gently, and does it again. “Yeah?”

“Mmm, yeah.” 

Blaine does it some more, increasing the pressure and adding a thumb, until Kurt is squirming. Then Blaine moves to the other one, caressing it with his fingers and then swiftly leaning down and swiping his tongue across the hardened nub.

“Fuck,” Kurt exhales, “that feels good.” His hips are moving restlessly and his hands are gripping Blaine’s arms as he concentrates on the sensations rushing through him. “Let me try.”

Blaine lies back, and Kurt dives in for a kiss first, lips and tongue and his hand in Blaine’s hair. He’s pressing up against Blaine’s hip, and he knows Blaine can feel him. It’s all he can do not to just rut up against him for relief, but he’s got other things he wants to do first.

Kurt pulls back, grinning at the look on Blaine’s face, pupils blown and pouty lips searching for Kurt’s. “Patience.” He leans down and gives Blaine’s chest the same treatment Blaine gave him, earning a similar response. Blaine’s breathing speeds up when he pulls at his nipples, and even more when Kurt uses his mouth to tug just a little.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathes out. 

“You okay?” Kurt pauses, catching Blaine’s eye.

“So okay.” 

Kurt goes back to his ministrations, alternating between Blaine’s nipples for a little while more, and then kisses back up his chest to his neck, and that spot just under his jaw. He’s got one hand stretching back up to Blaine’s hair, winding his fingers into his curls, and he lets the other trail down to the waistband of Blaine’s khaki shorts.

Kurt slides his fingertips under the top of Blaine’s shorts, and he’s just about to reach down a little further when Blaine freezes.

“Wait.” Blaine’s hand is on his wrist, and Kurt immediately pulls his hand away and looks at Blaine.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He had gotten carried away. “I didn’t mean to – I won’t-”

“No, that’s not it,” Blaine says, blinking rapidly. 

“What’s not it? It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything more, really. This is good, this is very good,” Kurt babbles. Because it is, and the last thing he wants to do is rush Blaine.

“I want you to.”

“Oh. You do?” Kurt relaxes, lets himself down on his side, puts his wandering hand safely on Blaine’s shoulder. _Stay,_ he thinks, breathing deeply and hoping some oxygen actually reaches his brain. “So, why did you stop me?”

“I just thought… I should go, um, shower first?”

The look on Blaine’s face is so earnest that Kurt knows he can’t laugh, although he’s not sure he can hold it in for long.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he says, shaking his head for emphasis.

“Yeah, but you like things to be clean.”

Kurt can’t really deny this. “I think this is different. And you took a shower this morning.”

“We raked up the yard after that.”

Kurt remembers this activity clearly, especially how the muscles in Blaine’s arms moved so enticingly as he worked. It only makes him want Blaine more, just as he is, right now.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.” Kurt strokes Blaine’s cheek, kisses him firmly.

“I was sweating.”

“So was I.” Kurt pushes up on an elbow, looks Blaine in the eye. “Blaine, you are the most gorgeous boy I have ever laid eyes on, and you are right here next to me, half naked, in my bed, where I can touch you-” he runs a finger down Blaine’s chest, “and kiss you. You drive me crazy. Even if you had just run a marathon, I promise you-” Kurt’s eyes flicker downward just for a second as he trails a finger down Blaine’s body, barely touching him where he’s clearly straining against his shorts, “I’d still want to lick you all over.” 

Blaine gasps, throwing an arm over his face. “Kurt, you can’t just… say something like that.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt throws his hands up to his cheeks in mock surprise. “Did I shock you?”

Blaine shakes his head and peeks up at Kurt from behind his arm.

Kurt grins. “Did you not know that was a thing? Using my mouth on your… private parts?”

Blaine moans and shuffles his legs, though there’s little he can do to hide his body’s reaction, not with the loose shorts he has on. “Kurt, you’re killing me.”

Kurt puts his hand on Blaine’s thigh, just below the hem of his shorts, and moves it slowly up towards his groin. “You do know, don’t you, what gay guys can do down here…” His fingertips are almost touching Blaine’s cock, but he holds his hand still and leans up close to Blaine’s ear. “If you want, I can get the pamphlets out again. We can go over the… options… together.”

Blaine breaks, grabbing Kurt by the shoulders and pressing him back against the bed as he dives into a fervent kiss. He leans up over Kurt and lets his hips fall down against him, both of them gasping. Kurt wraps a leg around Blaine’s calf, squeezing them closer, but he still wants more.

“Hang on,” he pants out, “just a sec.” Blaine rolls off him, licking his lips, and Kurt puts a hand on the button of Blaine’s shorts. “Can we get rid of these?”

Blaine nods, and watches as Kurt undoes the button and the zipper, and then lifts up as Kurt drags his shorts off over his legs. Kurt strips off his own, and then, with a glance up at Blaine, pulls his tight black briefs off too. He runs a hand over Blaine’s pert ass, still clothed in thin red cotton, and gives it a squeeze. “You don’t have to…”

But Blaine is distracted, looking at Kurt’s now fully exposed cock, and barely responds until Kurt slides a finger into the waistband and around to the front. “Blaine? Okay if I take these off?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah.”

A moment later and they’re both naked, staring at each other.

“You’re so beautiful, Kurt,” Blaine breathes out. His hand slides down Kurt’s side, pauses at his jutting hipbone. 

“It’s okay. Go ahead.”

Blaine glances up at Kurt, and then his hand is touching him, wrapping gently around his cock, and Kurt thinks he is going to shake out of his skin. Blaine’s touch is tentative at first, but then he strokes him more firmly, and Kurt feels it through his whole body. He reaches for Blaine, and then they’re both wrapped around each other, leaning their heads together and panting encouragement and sounds that Kurt is sure he has never made before in his whole life.

It doesn’t last long, but it is the most fantastic thing Kurt has ever experienced. Afterwards Kurt pulls Blaine against him, ignoring the stickiness for the moment. Blaine snuggles up close, wrapping his arms around Kurt, rocking them tight together. “Love you so much,” Blaine says, pressing a kiss to the edge of Kurt’s mouth. “So much. God, Kurt, you’re incredible.”

Kurt kisses back, lazy and light. It’s almost too much effort to line their lips up properly, and he playfully licks the side of Blaine’s face. “Love you too.”

Kurt is just drifting off when he hears Blaine whispering to him. “You make me so happy, Kurt. I never thought I could be so happy.”

Kurt pets Blaine’s curls, lifts his face up to look into his caramel eyes. “I feel the same way.” And he does. 

“Let’s do this forever, okay?” 

Kurt isn’t sure if Blaine means the sex, or the cuddling, or just being together. Probably all three.

“Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Blaine is 17, Kurt is 18_

“You don’t have to stay here, Blaine.” Kurt’s eyes are burning, but he’s not going to cry. It’s their first big fight, the first one that really matters. It might well be their last.

It’s a few months after Kurt’s eighteenth birthday. And for a belated birthday gift, they get a surprise that has the potential to change everything.

*****  
 _The day before…_

They are all together at the dinner table when they hear the knock. 

“Expecting anyone?” Burt asks, as he gets up to see who it is.

Kurt reaches his hand out under the table, placing it on Blaine’s thigh. Blaine always gets nervous when they have unexpected visitors, understandably so.

They can hear Burt talking with the person at the door, but can’t see anything from where they sit in the kitchen. Kurt has the sudden impulse to run out back with Blaine, take him far away and protect him from whatever is about to happen. It turns out he was right to be concerned, if not exactly for the right reason.

Burt comes back into the room, trailed by a tall, handsome man in a black t-shirt and jeans who looks to be in his late twenties. “Blaine, do you know a Cooper Anderson?”

“Blainey?” The stranger approaches, and Kurt can feel Blaine tense in his chair next to him.

“Blaine, who is this guy?” Kurt says, standing up and putting a firm hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Blaine?” Kurt shakes him a little, trying to get him to focus.

Blaine slowly looks from the man to Kurt, his face pale and unbelieving. “He’s my brother.”

Cooper’s story comes out. He tells them that the men who attacked Blaine’s family took Cooper and their dad with them, using them to demonstrate their loyalty to one of the more extreme right-wing groups that had been vying for power at the time. Their father died soon thereafter of injuries sustained during the initial attack, but Cooper had been able to get away after a few weeks. He eventually found a home with his mother’s extended family in California. Cooper’s mother Susan was two generations U.S. born; their father had married Blaine’s mother after Susan passed away when Cooper was small.

“I didn’t have any idea that you were alive,” Cooper said, his bright blue eyes pleading with Blaine. “They must not have known you were in the house, or they would have taken you, too.” Or killed you, Kurt thinks.

Blaine sits, shell-shocked, through this explanation. Luckily Burt keeps the ball rolling.

“So how, exactly, did you find us?”

“Long story,” Cooper says, and begins to tell them about a friend of a friend who had a small part in a television series Cooper was auditioning for. “I asked this guy about the friend we had in common, because I hadn’t seen him in a while. He got all quiet, and told me that I should just forget about him. It made me curious, though, and so I caught him when we were leaving the studio one day, and took him out for coffee. Turns out my friend’s parents are from India, and his dad is undocumented. When his employer found out he decided he didn’t want to risk it, and fired him. So he went somewhere safer.”

Cooper accepts the glass of iced tea Carole hands him and continues. “It took me a while to figure out where.”

“So you just showed up here and started knocking on doors?” Burt asks. “That’s a mighty big job.”

“No. But the more I asked around, the more I learned. There are a lot of people in Hollywood who know someone who’s left town. And one of them finally put me in touch with my friend.”

Cooper shakes his head. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, but then he was in California for a relative’s wedding, and we got together for drinks. He told me about how well his family was doing out here, how comfortable they all are. His younger brothers and sister have made friends and are growing up with a lot less prejudice than he had to deal with.”

“Cooper, what’s this friend’s name?” Burt asks.

“Ravi Patel.”

Cooper also learned, through their late night reminisce, that Ravi has a younger brother named Dev. And when Ravi had described a certain hazel eyed, curly haired boy who was currently lighting up his brother’s imagination, Cooper couldn’t help thinking of Blaine.

“To his credit, when I asked him if he knew Blaine, he didn’t want to say anything. But I told him about what happened to our family, and he believed me.”

Cooper looks around and locks eyes with Burt, who is giving him a particularly suspicious look. “Ravi and I have been friends for a long time. He just wanted to help me, and Blaine. He would never have said anything if he thought it would endanger you or your family.” 

Kurt can see Cooper is getting impatient with the interrogation.

“Look, it might have taken a while, but I’m here now. I don’t have a lot to offer, but he’s sixteen now, it’s not as if he needs a babysitter.”

“Seventeen,” Kurt mutters.

“Seventeen, fine. I’m still his best shot. I’m the only family he has left, after all.”

“That’s not true,” Blaine says, standing up so fast his chair rocks back. “You don’t know anything about me.”

The conversation breaks down quickly from there, until Burt suggests that he and Cooper go for a walk. Blaine storms upstairs and locks himself in the bedroom – not that Kurt couldn’t have gotten in if he wanted to, since their lock doesn’t work for shit – but he lets him be. It’s rare that Blaine asks for space.

When Cooper and Burt return, Cooper goes upstairs and knocks on their bedroom door. It opens, and Cooper goes inside.

Burt sits down next to Kurt on the sofa. Carole is making coffee in the kitchen, and they wait in silence for a few minutes until she comes to join them.

Kurt takes the warm mug from Carole, and stares into it. “What’s going to happen?” he asks finally.

“Don’t know,” Burt replies. “But that guy really is Blaine’s brother, and he’s serious about putting their family back together. What’s left of it, anyway.”

“Is Cooper going to stay here?” Carole asks.

Burt scoffs. “No way. He’s some kind of small time actor, in television commercials and things like that. Does some modeling. Thinks he’s god’s gift. He’s going back to L.A. first chance he gets.”

“With Blaine,” Kurt says.

“That’s his plan.”

“Blaine won’t be safe there.”

“Cooper figures that since he’s almost eighteen, and has that NIC card that says his parents are multi-generation Americans, he’ll be safe. He was actually really pleased to know Blaine is even closer to eighteen than he had thought.”

“How did Cooper not know how old his brother is?”

Burt shrugs. “Cooper was your age when his family was attacked, Kurt. He was violently kidnapped, and watched his parents die. Cut the guy some slack.”

Kurt stands up, pacing back and forth across the room. “You can’t believe it’s better for Blaine to go with that man than stay here with us.”

“I think Cooper has more legal right to Blaine than we do, if it comes down to that.” Burt puts his cup of coffee down and wipes his hands on his pants. “And as much as it pains me to say it, Cooper is Blaine’s family.”

“So are we,” Kurt insists.

“I know. But think of this from Blaine’s point of view. All these years, he’s missed his brother. He thought he was killed, though he’d never see him again. Imagine if someone you thought was dead for all that time showed up on your doorstep.” Burt sighs, and turns to look directly at Kurt. “I know it’s hard, kid, and it’s not what you ever expected. But try to separate your personal feelings from what Blaine may choose to do. If Blaine wants to go with Cooper, I suggest you support him.”

*****  
When Cooper comes downstairs, saying his goodnights and telling them he’d be back the next morning, Kurt heads up to their bedroom. Blaine is sitting on his bed, looking teary eyed and lost.

“Are you okay?”

Blaine shrugs. “It just doesn’t seem real. Cooper was talking about all this stuff from when I was little that I don’t remember at all. I mean, it’s great to see him, but…”

“He cares a lot about you.” 

“Why do you say that?”

Kurt thinks that’s an odd thing for Blaine to say about his older brother. “Well, he went to a lot of trouble to find you.”

“He went to a lot of trouble to find Ravi. He just happened to find me, too.”

“He’s your brother,” Kurt points out.

“He’s ten years older than me, Kurt. I was nothing but an annoyance to him. We were never close.” Blaine scrubs at his face. “Now he thinks I’ll just up and move to California with him, be his personal assistant and ‘learn the Hollywood ropes.’ Probably won’t even pay me.”

“You always wanted to be on television,” Kurt says.

“Not for real,” Blaine scoffs. “Can you imagine? We haven’t seen an Asian person on a current television show in years, or anyone at all who looks the slightest bit non-white. I’m not what they’re looking for, and it wouldn’t be safe for me to try it.”

“But you can pass-”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I want to keep living here, where we can be who we really are?”

It’s a valid point. Kurt can’t see how living in L.A. would work. But all these years, Blaine has thought he was alone. He had been close with his mother and father, and clearly had been loved dearly. But he lost them. And as much as Burt and Carole never begrudged taking Blaine in, Blaine has essentially been living off the charity of strangers since he was eight years old. Rationally, Kurt knows Blaine deserves a chance to be with his real family. “Cooper’s your brother,” he says again.

“Whatever.” Blaine throws himself back on his bed. “I’m wiped out. I’m going to sleep.”

Kurt gets changed and then hesitates, looking at Blaine curled up tight, facing away from him. It’s not exactly an invitation, but then again they never sleep in separate beds anymore, not unless one of them has a cold bad enough to gross the other one out. 

Kurt climbs into bed next to Blaine, spoons himself around him and nestles his face against Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine is still for a long minute, then he turns in Kurt’s arms and tucks his head under Kurt’s chin, clutching him tightly. His breath hitches, and as Kurt holds him he feels Blaine start to cry.

“Blaine? Honey? What is it?”

Blaine just clings tighter. Kurt pushes his hair off his forehead and tries to get him to look up. “This is a good thing. Your brother’s not dead, he’s right here, and he wants you in his life.”

Blaine shakes his head against Kurt’s chest, tries to calm his breathing and then breaks into sobs again. 

“Blaine, what’s the matter?” Kurt is expecting Blaine to say that he doesn’t want to leave Kurt, and braces himself to support Blaine in whatever decision he makes. His dad is right – this has to be up to Blaine. Even if he goes away, they can write, keep in touch. Maybe someday they can be together again.

Blaine finally catches his breath enough to reply, his words coming out in jerky pulses. And what he says is not at all what Kurt expected. “When I saw him… Kurt, for a minute… I thought he was my dad.”

It’s crushing to contemplate. Kurt knows how hard the loss of his parents was for Blaine, and to have hope for just a fleeting moment that his father was alive… Kurt pulls Blaine tighter against him, rubs his back and whispers meaningless words over and over. 

Blaine didn’t just find out today that Cooper survived. He also found out beyond any doubt that his father is dead.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Cooper is back bright and early. Kurt is hovering in the kitchen, listening in on the conversation between Cooper and Burt. 

Cooper is surprised that Blaine’s bags aren’t packed, and doesn’t react well when Burt explains that Blaine won’t be going anywhere right now.

“It’s not fair to expect him to up and leave on a moment’s notice,” Burt says sternly, as if Cooper were a teenager too. 

“I’ve got an audition on Monday,” Cooper protests, but Burt just shrugs and invites him to come inside. Cooper declines, saying he’ll go hang out with Ravi, but that he’ll be back for dinner. “And tell Blainey to be ready to go. My agent will only put up with so many excuses before he decides to send someone else.”

Blaine doesn’t come downstairs until late morning. When he does, he’s showered and dressed and looks altogether normal, if you didn’t know that his smile is the one he pastes on his face when he doesn’t want to show what he’s actually feeling. Kurt knows, of course, and his parents do, too. Blaine isn’t exactly good at keeping secrets, at least not from them.

Because _we’re_ his family, Kurt thinks. Not that photoshopped blowhard from L.A.

“You want to talk about it, kid, we’re here for you,” Burt says, patting Blaine on the shoulder as he heads out to the garage. “Even got an oil change needs to be done, if you’re interested.”

Kurt busies himself organizing the cabinet where they keep the pots and pans. There’s a pile of plastic containers that have found a home in there as well, and their lids keep getting in the way of stacking the saucepans properly. Blaine wanders in and out of the kitchen, muttering pros and cons and generally getting in the way.

It’s when Blaine keeps asking him his opinion and then arguing about whatever Kurt says that Kurt starts to let his temper get the best of him. He knows Blaine is anxious, but Kurt is too. He’s not the only one at fault when Blaine’s attempt to pick a fight finally succeeds.

“You don’t have to stay here, Blaine.”

“I know I don’t have to stay here. The question is whether I should.”

“Cooper may be a bit of an asshole, but he’s your brother. Do you know what I’d give for a brother?”

Kurt is thinking of Finn, Carole’s son who died in the culling before Burt married Carole, but Blaine doesn’t know that. Kurt realizes this when he sees Blaine’s face fall.

“I never was good enough to be a brother to you, was I?”

“Brother? You want to be my _brother_? That would make our current situation kind of illegal, wouldn’t it?”

Blaine scoffs. “It’s already illegal, or have you forgotten?”

“You’re right,” Kurt snaps. “Clearly being with me is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, and certainly not worth sticking around here for.” No matter how Kurt is trying to be rational about it, underneath it always comes to back to this: Blaine going with Cooper is going to mean Blaine leaving him. There’s no getting around it.

Kurt's eyes fill with the tears he’s been trying to hold in, and Kurt pushes past Blaine out to the back door and into the yard.

“Kurt!” Blaine yells, coming outside behind him, and Kurt pauses, a hand on the back of a worn patio chair. He wants to run away, to put some space between his breaking heart and the person that’s breaking it, but he can’t. Not even now.

“Oh, come on.” He waves his hand at Blaine, but keeps his head down. 

It’s a crisp fall day, and as Kurt walks briskly away from the house he wishes he had thought to bring a jacket. He’s not sure if Blaine is following him until he hears him jog up beside him, breathing hard. He chances a quick glance to the side and sees Blaine carrying the picnic blanket they keep in the mudroom closet. He must have run back inside to get it.

They don’t talk, but they both know where they are going. Off to the side of their land is a sparse cluster of trees, and through it a slight rise that almost qualifies as a hill. Up on top there’s a big rock, perfect for sitting on. But today Kurt doesn’t think they’ll be having a romantic date while watching the sunset.

They walk through the trees, not holding hands as they usually do. Kurt reaches the rock first, and climbs up, sliding over as Blaine comes up to join him. Blaine shakes out the blanket and they wrap it around their shoulders. The rock underneath him is cold. They’re sitting close, just barely touching, and Kurt expects Blaine to lay his head on his shoulder. But he doesn’t.

There’s a chipmunk darting in and out of the brush in front of them, and they watch it for a few minutes, long enough that Kurt moves past feeling badly about their conversation and gets ready for the next round. As difficult as this is, they have to talk about it. And if Blaine moves away, it may be their last opportunity for a long time.

“It must be a lot,” Kurt says finally, “to have Cooper show up out of the blue like this.”

In response, Blaine murmurs the lyrics of the old Adele song. “Hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited.”

“He wants you to decide today.”

“I know.”

“I think he wants you to actually leave tonight.” Kurt pushes away the thought of going to bed tonight alone, without the person he’s shared every night with for almost ten years.

“I know.”

“I love you, Blaine. No matter what. And if you leave, it doesn’t have to mean we’re through.”

Blaine shakes his head. “The wifi connection here sucks, and you know the mail isn’t safe. Your dad hasn’t spoken more than six words on the phone in the past year. How exactly will we keep in touch? Smoke signals?”

“You could move out there for a little while, a trial period. Come back if it doesn’t work out.”

“Then I’d just lead whatever crazies find me again right back here to you.”

Kurt wants to chastise Blaine for being paranoid, but since Blaine’s introduction to race politics started off with his family being butchered, his fear is understandable.

“What would you do, if you had to choose?” Blaine asks. He’s staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused.

_I’d stay, of course,_ Kurt wants to answer. But he’s not sure. They have both fantasized about going to Hollywood, being in the movies or on television. When Kurt was little, being an actor was all he could think about, until he realized he would have to hide his sexuality. He’s not sure he’d be any better at pretending to be straight now than when he was fourteen. Probably not.

But Blaine can pass as straight much more easily than Kurt. As long as his heritage didn’t catch him up, he might have a shot at a more normal life, a more exciting one. Kurt says as much to Blaine.

Blaine sucks in a breath. “You think I should pretend to be straight? You never much liked that idea for yourself.”

“I don’t really have it as an option, Blaine.”

“And I do? Just give up on sharing my life with someone? Find some girl to be my beard? What kind of life is that?”

“Don’t get angry with me,” Kurt says, turning to face Blaine, who is adamantly not looking him in the eye. “I’m only trying to help you think it through.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re trying to convince me to leave.” Blaine’s arms are crossed tightly around his chest, and his voice rises as he speaks. “How about you just be honest for a minute, and tell me what you’d like me to do.”

“What I’d like really isn’t the issue.” But god, he wishes it was.

“Are you sure? This decision affects both of us. Why doesn’t your opinion count?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I _want_ you to leave?” Kurt twists until Blaine is forced to look at him. “I should hope you don’t really need to ask me that question. You know the answer. I love you. I love you more than I ever imagined I could love another person. But you can’t stay just because of me.”

Blaine breathes in a deep breath and uncrosses his arms. When he raises his head again, his eyes are wide and searching. “Why not? Why can’t I stay because of you?”

It’s as if the answer to all the world’s questions are there in Blaine’s shining brown eyes, and Kurt can discover them all, if he only could read them correctly. He doesn’t know what the right answer is, what he’s supposed to say, to properly balance all of the factors in play.

“Stop thinking so much and tell me what you really feel,” Blaine whispers, keeping his eyes locked on Kurt’s. 

So he does. “I want you to stay. Stay because of me. Stay because it’s safer. Just stay. If… if that’s what you want, too.” 

“You know it is, Kurt. Nothing else makes any sense.” Blaine takes Kurt’s hands and holds them tight. “Nothing has made more sense in my whole life. You, and Burt and Carole, _are_ my family. I love all of you. You’re all the family I need.” 

“But…” Kurt wants this so much, can it really be this easy?

“I don’t really know Cooper, but even if I could trust him, who’s to say I’d be safe in L.A.? I definitely couldn’t tell anyone about my real parents.” Blaine scoots closer and puts a hand to Kurt’s cheek. “And I could never kiss my boyfriend, like this.” Blaine presses a soft kiss to Kurt’s lips. 

Kurt returns the kiss, letting a hand twine into Blaine’s hair and holding him close. When they part, he looks breathlessly into Blaine’s eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Blaine nods. “More than anything. I want to stay. I have to.” He takes a deep breath. “Will you help me?”

Kurt frowns. “Help you?”

Blaine bites his lip, looks away. “I’m not sure Cooper is going to take no for an answer.”

Suddenly Kurt understands why Blaine has been so inconsolable today. Blaine thinks he has to leave whether he wants to or not.

*****  
Kurt and Blaine are sitting around the kitchen table with Burt, waiting anxiously for Cooper to arrive. After Blaine’s revelation, Kurt had brought him straight back into the house and made him tell Burt everything that Cooper had said.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let him talk to you alone last night,” Burt says to Blaine, drumming his fingers angrily on the table. “Cooper may be your brother, but you’re still my kid.” 

“Maybe Blaine and I should get out of here,” Kurt says. “We’ll go over to Trudy’s, and Cooper will have to give up and go back to L.A.”

Burt shakes his head. “While that might make Cooper give up, it might also just make him angry. We have to talk to him, and help him understand why Blaine isn’t going with him.”

“What if he won’t understand?”

Burt stands up, and for a minute Kurt wonders if he’s going to get the rifle he keeps in the bedroom closet. “Then we can say we tried. But either way, Blaine stays here.”

They hear a key in the lock, and Carole comes into the house. “We’re here,” she announces, and turns to usher their guests into the room. With her are Trudy and Ana, Dr. Lee and her husband, and Dinu and Gita Patel, who are Ravi and Dev’s parents. Kurt and Blaine rise to pull more chairs up to the table, and Blaine sends Kurt a questioning look. Kurt just shrugs. If Burt has a master plan, he hasn’t filled Kurt in on it.

“Thanks for coming over,” Burt says, standing up to take everyone’s coats. “I thought it might help Cooper to hear from a few different perspectives,” he says, directing his comment to Kurt and Blaine. “I didn’t want to say anything until we found out if Carole could get in touch with anyone.” Because the last thing Burt would do is call someone on the phone to see if they could help convince Cooper that it would be unsafe to take Blaine to California. Might as well announce to the world that he was harboring an “undesirable” and trying to keep him away from his rightful family.

They sit back down, and Blaine slides his chair closer to Kurt as he makes space for the others to join them at the table. Kurt notes with relief that Blaine has become more relaxed, apparently comforted by the fact that their neighbors are here to support him. If nothing else, Kurt muses, there’s no way Cooper would get physical with all these people here. Not that he really expects him to pull out a gun, or anything, but he did say he’d been in a lot of police procedurals, and not always as the dead body.

Burt is giving their guests a little more background, and Kurt takes Blaine’s hand and holds it against his thigh. “You doing okay?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah.” He looks around the room. “I can’t believe they all came.”

“It’s like you said,” Kurt says, knocking his shoulder against Blaine’s, “you’re family.”

It’s not long before there’s a knock on the door, and Burt goes to answer it. He returns with Cooper, whose eyes widen at the assembled crowd. “Wow, nice going away party, squirt,” Cooper says, coming around to pat Blaine rather too aggressively on the shoulder. “Go grab your stuff, we need to hit the road.”

Blaine stands up, but doesn’t leave his spot by the table. “Cooper, why don’t you sit down for a minute.”

“Oh, sorry,” Cooper looks around, apparently trying to identify Carole but failing. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want any cake or anything. The camera adds ten pounds, you know.” Cooper pats his nonexistent belly and smiles his toothy movie star grin.

Burt indicates an empty chair next to his own, and reaches out an arm to pull Cooper towards it. He looks a little baffled, but complies. “Okay, I’ll sit, but only for a minute.”

Blaine sits back down, and Kurt can hear his relieved exhale as Cooper moves away from him. He reaches for his hand again, and Blaine takes it quickly. 

“I’m not going with you, Cooper,” Blaine says. His hand is trembling in Kurt’s, but his voice is steady.

“What? Blaine, we talked about this,” Cooper shakes his head, as if reprimanding a recalcitrant puppy.

“I’m sorry. I know you put a lot of effort into finding me,” Kurt is impressed that Blaine says this with a straight face, since he knows Blaine doesn’t believe it, “but my home is here now.”

“Blaine, come on. There’s no opportunity for you here. L.A. is where the action is. You were a talented kid, you could make something of yourself in California. I’ve got connections, it would be great for you. You don’t need to stay in this place like a…” Cooper trails off, looking at the men and women sitting around the table. Kurt wonders what type of barely disguised slur would have come out of Cooper’s mouth if he hadn’t caught himself in time.

“Like a what?” Blaine isn’t letting him get away with it. “Like someone who won’t hide who he is? Cooper, I can’t be myself in L.A.”

“Blaine, with your papers-“

“But Michael and Judy aren’t my parents, and I’m not white. I’m half Filipino, and I’m gay.”

Cooper looks surprised. Did Cooper not know about the gay part? Surely he hadn’t missed the handholding?

“I understand that you’re concerned about your brother,” Burt says, and Cooper’s head swivels towards him. “But I promise you, he is welcome here. We’ve taken good care of him since he was eight years old. He’s part of our family, and we love him very much.”

Blaine tears up at this, and Kurt can’t help but lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Cooper narrows his eyes at this, and looks back and forth between Blaine and Kurt, his expression hardening. “Wait a minute… are you two…?”

“Boyfriends,” Blaine says, glancing at Kurt, who squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. “For over a year now.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cooper glowers at Burt. “What, did you just adopt Blainey so he could be a, a, concubine for your son?”

Burt stands up from the table, his chair skidding backwards. “Now stop right there, young man, and watch what you say. I’m willing to cut you a little slack, but I think you just got to the end of your rope.”

“You can’t keep Blaine here,” Cooper insists. “Not if I want to take him. He’s my brother.”

“And how, exactly, will you prove that, if you want him to use the fake NIC card?” Dr. Lee’s husband stands up and extends his hand across the table to Cooper. “I’m Mike Lee.”

Cooper doesn’t take his hand. “What the hell do you know about what I can prove?”

“He’s an immigration attorney,” Carole explains. 

“Not that there’s much point to protesting what the government decides, these days,” Mike says mildly. “But I do what I can to advise people on how best to stay off the government’s radar. And I can tell you, if you march into court demanding custody of Blaine, it won’t end well for either of you.”

Cooper is looking decidedly less confident. “What do you mean?”

“The government won’t like it that Blaine has lived off the grid for so many years. As far as anyone knows, Blaine Anderson disappeared when he was eight years old. If he is discovered now, he’ll probably be sent to the camps, just for the impertinence of not showing up and letting himself be sent to the camps years ago.”

“That’s an old wives tale,” Cooper sputters. “People don’t get sent to the camps if they haven’t done anything wrong.”

There’s a collective sigh around the table, and Carole stands up. “I’m going to go get you a cup of coffee, okay, Cooper?”

He looks resigned. “Okay.”

For the next hour, their neighbors tell Cooper about the many people they know – not just anonymous stories – who have gotten arrested, imprisoned, and sent to the internment camps. People with proper documentation who had the misfortune to be born to parents who didn’t, people who were in the process of becoming naturalized but weren’t able to complete it, people who were completely “legal” but associated with “undesirables”…. the list was long.

“And you must understand,” Dinu said in his formal tone, “there’s no way a gay man or woman can be safe in most areas of the country right now. You do realize that gays are prohibited from holding many types of jobs, don’t you?”

“And even if they aren’t officially prohibited, they won’t hire us,” Ana says. “Think about it. Do you know any out gays working in Hollywood right now?”

Cooper is silent, and his shoulders slump. He turns towards Blaine for the first time since the lecture began, and his face is sad. “I’m sorry, Blainey. I guess I really didn’t think this through. I just wanted my brother back.” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I had it in my head that you’d be living in a shed somewhere, with the mops and buckets you used to clean the house with, and I’d come in and rescue you.”

“It’s not _Les Miserables,”_ Kurt snidely comments.

“No, but Cooper was right to be concerned,” Burt says. “He didn’t know what kind of situation he’d find Blaine in.” Burt directs a “don’t make this harder than it is,” look at Kurt, then turns back to Cooper. “I hope you can see that he’s in good hands here. We would never do anything to risk Blaine’s safety. That’s why we moved out here, so that he and Kurt could have a better chance to be themselves.”

“Together,” Cooper mutters.

“Well, we moved out here before the romance fully blossomed, but yes. If they want to be together, we’re all for it,” Burt says gruffly. “They’re the best kids I know, and they have always been good to each other.”

“You should be so lucky, to find someone to love, like these boys have,” Gita says. “And if Kurt ever changes his mind, I know Dev would be a willing suitor for Blaine as well.” Kurt is about to protest, but he sees the sparkle in Ms. Patel’s eyes and just laughs, along with most of the people at the table. Blaine just hides his face in his hands.

With that the tension is broken, and Cooper looks over to Blaine. “I guess this is goodbye,” he says, looking a little lost.

“You can always come visit,” Blaine says, but this doesn’t seem to make Cooper feel much better.

“Walk me out?” he asks.

Blaine stands up, and Burt shakes his head as Kurt gets up too. “Let them have a minute,” Burt says. “It’s not as if Cooper’s going to pick him up and drag him into his car, right, Cooper?”

Cooper blushes furiously at this. “What? No, I…”

“It’s all right,” Blaine says, walking Cooper towards the door. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

Notwithstanding this little exchange, Kurt watches as Burt and Trudy busy themselves handing out their guests’ coats, close enough to where Cooper and Blaine are standing to easily hear their conversation, and prevent any last minute change of heart on Cooper’s part.

He’s relieved when all their guests are gone, including Cooper, and he and Blaine retreat to their bedroom. They change into their pajamas in silence, then Kurt climbs into his bed and holds out a hand to Blaine.

“Come here.”

Blaine comes, curling himself against Kurt’s side and burying his face in his neck. “That was kind of horrible.”

“I know. But it’s okay now.” And it is. Blaine is staying here, where he belongs. Kurt’s life may not be perfect, but there’s no question that it would be drastically less wonderful without Blaine in it.


	8. Chapter 8

_Blaine is 19, Kurt is 20_

“I’m sorry, Kurt, I just don’t think you can pull it off,” Burt says, taking the wet pan from Kurt’s hands and rubbing it with the dishcloth.

“Why not? Aunt Trudy says we could live in the barn behind her house.”

“She said you could have it at a reduced rent, if you helped fix it up.”

“So? That works for me.” Kurt runs another plate under the hot water.

“She didn’t say zero rent, she said reduced rent. What money are you going to use, exactly, to pay her with? And since when do you know how to install a heating system?”

These are both valid points, but Kurt doesn’t think they are insurmountable. “You could help us with the rent, at first, with the money you’d save by not having us live here.”

Burt sighs, and Kurt feels like a child being hit over the head with the obvious. “It doesn’t cost any extra to have you two live here. It wouldn’t be any cheaper if you moved out, especially if you still need our help with money for food.”

“Well, then, you could loan us some, and we’d pay it back. Blaine’s got some savings from his writing…”

“Which I imagine he doesn’t want to spend on a barely-habitable shack when you have a perfectly good place to live right here.” Burt puts the pan down and turns to Kurt. “Have you even talked to Blaine about this?”

Kurt turns off the water and sits down at the kitchen table, turning the chair so he could look at Burt. “I thought I’d talk to you first, then bring the plan to him when it was all worked out.”

“Kurt, I know how much you want to feel like an adult, and how your options and Blaine’s are limited-”

“Limited? That’s one way to put it.”

“Have you thought any more about going away to college?”

“Are you serious? That wouldn’t be safe for either of us,” Kurt scoffs. “Plus, we couldn’t afford it.” Federal financial aid loans now require character references and acceptable heritage records, which would make it hard for Kurt and impossible for Blaine to attend a traditional school.

“Look, I want you guys to be happy, I really do. But I don’t think you’re ready to move out. Let Trudy find some other tenant to make that place livable, and maybe in a few years a place of your own will be an option for you.”

“I don’t want to wait a few years,” Kurt mumbles. 

“I know, son.” Burt puts his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt leans into his arm, letting himself pout for a moment. “But we don’t always get what we want.”

*****

_Blaine is 20, Kurt is 21_

“She said yes!” Kurt bursts into their little second-floor study room, eyes bright and practically shaking with excitement.

“Who said yes?” Blaine stands up from his chair, instinctively reaching out to pull Kurt into a hug. He hasn’t seen Kurt since this morning, and although it’s only just after lunch, it’s clearly time for another hug. Kurt squeezes him back briefly, but is too wound up to be still.

“Gita Patel, Dev’s mom. You know how she’s got that woodworking business? I showed her my ideas, the designs I’ve been working on, and she’s agreed to take me on as an apprentice.”

“Kurt, that’s awesome! Her work is beautiful – she’s really skilled. You could learn so much working with her.” Kurt’s excitement is contagious, and Blaine’s heart fills with pride. Kurt has been so antsy lately, not really knowing what to do with himself. Blaine has been taking an online college program, focusing on journalism, which is supplementing what he has taught himself over the years about writing for online and print publications. He’s also been able to make some money freelancing. It’s something he enjoys, and he’s good at it. But Kurt can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, and Blaine knows it drives him nuts not to have a plan. This opportunity could be just what he needs.

“I know, her work is amazing. The job won’t pay much at first, but she thinks that with some training I’ll be able to make my own pieces, and I can keep a portion of the profit if they sell.” 

“You can keep working on the accessory line, right?” Blaine loves watching Kurt design unique pieces of jewelry, although so far the online sales haven’t generated enough interest to be profitable. 

“Of course. In fact, Gita said that she saw my website and that’s part of what made her think we’d work well together. She thinks I have a good eye.”

“You have a very good eye,” Blaine says, taking Kurt’s hands and pulling him in for a kiss. “And the rest of you is pretty darn good, too.” Blaine slides his hands down to Kurt’s ass, giving it a little squeeze.

Kurt laughs, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s. “Any chance you can take a break from your work? Dad and Carole won’t be home until dinner…” Kurt waggles an eyebrow at Blaine, accompanied by a firm hand on his lower back, drawing him closer.

“Hmm… are you saying you believe congratulatory blowjobs are in order?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Well, then,” Blaine steps back from Kurt, beckoning him to follow as he heads towards their bedroom, swinging his hips a little bit as he goes, “who am I to deny you your rightful reward?”

_Blaine is 21, Kurt is 22_

Kurt is as quiet as he can be as he eases the key into the front door, lets himself in, and sheds his coat and boots. He’s been away for over a week, traveling with Gita to three different cities to sell their products and take orders for custom pieces. Gita has connections with several fine furniture sellers and galleries, and this trip included a show which featured her handmade chairs and tables, some of which Kurt had helped her make. 

Kurt was also able to show – and sell – his original work, mainly small, intricate wooden boxes with clever, interlocking latches and secret compartments. He’s got one of his favorites in his hands right now, and he runs his fingers over the carefully polished wood as he climbs the steps to his and Blaine’s bedroom.

He can’t quite decide if he’s hoping that Blaine is still awake so they can talk, or that he’s fast asleep and Kurt can just snuggle up under the covers with him and put off his plans until tomorrow. Nah, he thinks, even if Blaine’s asleep, he’ll wake up when Kurt gets into bed. And that’s okay, too.

Blaine doesn’t like it when Kurt goes away, although he tries to hide it. Kurt understands; he knows Blaine worries, and it’s not without reason. He wishes Blaine could come with him, but the political climate hasn’t gotten any more liberal over the years. Gita had been upfront with Kurt when she proposed their first sales trip together – she is cut a little slack due to her status as an artist, which gives her a somewhat exotic appeal, but traveling with her still isn’t without risk. Gita has fake paperwork, but they use Kurt as their frontman whenever they need to register for a trade show – his paperwork is authentic, even if his “character” might be questioned in a different circumstance. At least traveling with a woman old enough to be his mother doesn’t raise suspicion, the way it might if he had Blaine by his side.

Sure enough, Blaine is asleep, but he rolls over and throws a heavy arm over Kurt when he gets into bed. 

“You’re home,” Blaine mumbles sleepily, pushing his face up against Kurt’s for a lazy kiss.

“I am,” Kurt agrees, pulling the blankets up around them both until he’s comfortable. It’s cold out, even for March, and he’s been looking forward to warming his feet up under Blaine’s pajama-clad legs for hours. “I missed you,” he says softly, running his fingers through Blaine’s messy curls.

“Mmm, me too. So much.” Blaine blinks his eyes open, his long lashes fluttering. “Good trip?”

“Definitely. We took a bunch of orders, and I sold everything I brought.”

Blaine raises up on an elbow. “You did? That’s great.” He slides an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, leans in for another kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Kurt gazes at Blaine, his honey brown eyes so wide and loving. He’s got something to say, and he doesn’t think he can wait any longer. “You’re awake now, right?”

Blaine smiles and pokes Kurt with his toe under the blanket. “I think so. Why do you ask?”

Kurt twists around and finds the small wooden box in the night table drawer where he had stowed it just a few minutes ago. He sits up and hands it to Blaine. “Here.”

Blaine sits up too, and takes the box out of Kurt’s hands. “This is a really pretty one,” he says admiringly. It’s got a design made out of maple and cherry on the top lid, a picture of a little bird perched on a branch. The latch is a tiny brass leaf.

“Open it.”

Blaine opens the box, which at first glance appears to be empty. But Blaine is familiar with Kurt’s work, and he quickly locates the secret compartment, sliding the panel over and looking inside. He takes out the key, frowns at it, and looks at Kurt. “What’s this?”

Kurt holds Blaine’s gaze and tries not to show how nervous he is. “It’s a key to the house on Trudy and Ana’s property, the converted barn. With what Gita’s been paying me, and what I made on this trip, I’ve got enough to pay six months’ rent. Trudy will cover utilities as long as we do some yard work and help her paint the place in the spring.”

Blaine doesn’t answer, just stares at the key and turns it in his hand.

Kurt takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. He puts a hand on Blaine’s face until Blaine looks up to meet his eyes. “I know this isn’t how things are supposed to go. If life were different, we’d be at college somewhere, in some fantastic city, and I’d be asking you to move in with me. But,” he shrugs, “instead…” he scrambles to rearrange himself on the bed, down on one knee, with a hand on Blaine’s shoulder to keep himself from wobbling, “Blaine Anderson, would you do me the honor of moving out with me?”

Kurt is quite proud of himself for pulling this off, but Blaine still doesn’t answer. He actually looks like he’s going to cry, and Kurt’s stomach sinks.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?”

Blaine nods, but he doesn’t really seem okay, and Kurt forgets his plan. He pulls Blaine into a tight hug, one hand behind his head and the other tight around his shoulders. The box is trapped painfully between them, and the key is probably somewhere in the blankets, but Kurt doesn’t care. “Hey, it’s all right, it’s all right.” Kurt doesn’t understand exactly why Blaine is upset, but he’ll figure that out later. “We don’t have to move, really we don’t. I just thought it might be nice to have our own place. But if you don’t want to go, it’s fine.”

“I do want our own place,” Blaine says, his voice muffled as he leans against Kurt. “I really do. It’s just… when I think about leaving here…”

“Do you not want to live by Trudy and Ana?” Blaine shakes his head, his face hidden against Kurt’s t-shirt. “Is it the money?” Another head shake. 

Blaine lifts his head, and his eyes are filled with tears. “Kurt, what you did, that was so sweet, I’m sorry I’m so… I just don’t know…” 

“Oh honey, don’t cry. You don’t have to know, okay? I surprised you, you don’t have to decide right now.” Kurt lies down and tugs Blaine against him, fishing the box out of the blankets and setting it aside. “Come here.” Blaine curls up close around Kurt, his head on his chest. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Blaine settles down, and to Kurt’s surprise, falls asleep fairly quickly. Kurt lies awake. Should he have raised this in a different way? He knows that there are still things that haunt Blaine, that what happened to him and his family when he was a child isn’t something he can ever really leave behind him. It comes up now and then, sometimes in ways that seem entirely unrelated to the violent attack that left him an orphan. Kurt wishes he could erase all that fear and soothe the pain in Blaine’s heart, but it’s hard to do when the government continues to treat “undesirables” with such cruelty.

The next morning Kurt wakes up to the smell of fresh cooked waffles, and opens his eyes to see Blaine smiling shyly at him, holding a tray filled to the brim with breakfast treats. Kurt sits up and Blaine carefully sets the tray down on the bed.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Blaine says plainly.

Kurt resists the urge to say ‘you didn’t freak out.’ “It’s all right.” He leans over the tray and brushes a soft kiss across Blaine’s lips. “I’m sorry I surprised you.”

“After breakfast… could we go look at the house?”

“Of course.”

Although the sun is shining brightly, the temperature is near freezing, so they bundle up before heading over to Trudy’s. Kurt wraps a warm scarf around his neck and smiles at the sight of Blaine in his navy pea coat and red and blue beanie. He never gets tired of looking at him, this boy who he is lucky enough to call his own. Kurt doesn’t like to think about how fateful their meeting was, or how easily he could have missed ever knowing Blaine.

They stop in to say hi to Trudy and Ana, who are just finishing up breakfast. “Cinnamon roll?” Ana asks, holding out a pan of well-iced confections.

“No, thanks,” Kurt says with a grin and a wink to Blaine. “Blaine already brought me breakfast.”

Blaine smiles back at Kurt, and Ana coos her approval. “Well done. Breakfast in bed is never a bad idea. Although I find the real key to happiness is plenty of coffee.”

“You guys practicing for striking out on your own? Because you’re always welcome to eat with us, as well,” Trudy says. “We’ve always got enough food for more, especially when Ana cooks. It’ll be great to have you two around so it doesn’t go to waste.”

Blaine’s smile fades as he is confronted with the issue of moving out again. Blaine politely thanks Ana and Trudy, and he and Kurt head out back to the barn. It’s a good distance back from the main house, past the garden and on the other side, thankfully, from the chicken coop.

“There’s no driveway now, but Trudy says that if we don’t want to park in front of her house, they’ll get some gravel put down.” Kurt drives an ancient Camry sedan that Carole passed on to him; Blaine doesn’t have a driver’s license – can’t get one - so one car is all they’ll ever need.

Kurt extracts the key from his pocket, and opens the door. The building has been pleasantly renovated, with a wide planked polished wooden floor covered in colorful rugs, a small living area with a couch, coffee table and television, and a narrow kitchen and breakfast bar with tall stools. There’s a desk off to one side, and a few bookcases. The bedroom is upstairs, in a loft that overhangs the kitchen. 

They look around the first floor, then go up the narrow staircase to the loft. It’s got a half wall on one side, open to the room below, but contained enough so that Kurt doesn’t feel like he’s going to fall over if he takes a wrong step. 

Blaine sits down on the queen bed and runs his hands over the quilt. It’s an intricate pattern of blues and greens, and Kurt can tell that Blaine likes the way it feels on his hands.

“Kind of like the one you had as a kid, isn’t it?” Kurt says, joining Blaine on the bed. That blanket was folded up in their closet at home, too worn for everyday use.

“Yeah. Nice big bed, too.” Blaine looks at Kurt and waggles his eyebrows, and Kurt smiles. He can tell that Blaine is still nervous, but he’s clearly trying.

There’s a window on the other side of the bed, and Kurt crawls over to it. It looks out over the fields towards a cluster of trees. They’re barren now, but as spring progresses, it will be a pretty view.

Blaine leans over his shoulder to look, and then sits back on his knees. “This is a really nice place.”

“I think so, too.” Kurt turns to Blaine and sits cross-legged in front of him. He holds out a hand, and Blaine takes it gratefully. “What do you think?”

Blaine pauses, looks out over Kurt’s shoulder. “At home, I feel safe. With Burt and Carole, and you.” Blaine fidgets nervously, his thumb rubbing back and forth across Kurt’s palm. “It scares me to think about leaving.” He looks down at their hands.

“The other times you had to leave somewhere, it wasn’t for good reasons,” Kurt says, watching Blaine’s face carefully. “But that’s not the case now.”

Blaine looks up at Kurt from under his long lashes. “How do you know me so well?”

“I’ve known you all my life, Blaine.” Kurt sucks in a breath, almost overwhelmed by the intensity of Blaine’s gaze. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Not ever. But I’d love for us to have a life together here, just you and me. Not that we still won’t see Burt and Carole all the time, and probably Ana and Trudy, too. But this space… it’ll be just for us.”

Blaine looks around the room, out over the half wall, and then back to Kurt. He seems to be turning the situation over in his mind, and as he does, his expression calms. 

Blaine leans forward and drapes his arms over Kurt’s shoulders, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. “Okay, let’s do it.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Blaine is 21, Kurt is almost 22_

Blaine puts the paintbrush down on the tray, and takes a swig of water from his water bottle. It’s a gorgeous early summer day, and he and Kurt have been hard at work painting the outside of the converted barn they now call home. His old red t-shirt is splattered with light yellow paint, and it is sticking rather uncomfortably to his back.

Blaine brings a full water bottle over to Kurt and taps him on the shoulder. “Here, drink up.” He hasn’t forgotten the day Kurt fell off the ladder at their old house, and sometimes wonders if Kurt was overheated, or dehydrated, or something that Blaine could have prevented. It may be water under the bridge (pun intended, he thinks to himself), but it doesn’t stop him from worrying about Kurt. Kurt means the world to him, and if there’s anything he can do to ward off harm, he’s going to do it.

Right now, however, all thoughts of gloom and doom are whisked from his head by the sight of Kurt tilting his head back and gulping as he drinks down the water. Kurt has long since ditched his own shirt, given the sunny weather and in order to avoid getting paint on his clothing, and sweat is slowly trickling down his side. Add to that the water that spills out of the bottle and slides down the outside of Kurt’s throat and Blaine is toast. There is nothing in the world as sexy as his boyfriend. 

Blaine stares at him for a long minute, and then has an idea. His hands are cool from clutching his water bottle, so he walks up behind Kurt and places his fingers lightly on Kurt’s bare shoulders. Kurt shivers from the brief chill, and turns to plant a kiss on Blaine’s lips. 

“Well, hello,” Kurt says, a saucy lilt to his voice. He gazes curiously at Blaine, and must see something in his eyes that give away Blaine’s indecent train of thought. “Think we should take a break?” he asks, his voice low.

“I do.” Blaine dribbles some water on his hands and drags his fingers from Kurt’s jaw down to his collarbone. 

Kurt stretches out his neck and practically moans. Blaine takes a big gulp of water, then runs his tongue down Kurt’s chest, licking up the sweat as he goes. He takes his time. There’s a lot of lovely skin to admire.

“Fuck, Blaine, let’s go inside,” Kurt pants, as Blaine finally kneels in front of Kurt and grabs his hips, pressing his fingers into his ass. Kurt has such a nice ass; Blaine is continually enamored with it.

“Why the rush?” Blaine asks, rubbing his thumbs ever closer to where Kurt is pressing against his shorts. “It’s a beautiful day.” He smiles mischievously up at Kurt, who it seems is currently fighting the urge to just push his groin up against Blaine’s face.

“Ugh, Blaine,” is all that Kurt can come up with. One hand grips Blaine’s shoulder while the other waves frantically at the house.

“Yes?” Blaine slides his fingers under Kurt’s waistband, pops the button, and slowly pulls his zipper down. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d really like me to do right now?”

There’s not much question, and Kurt says as much with a raised eyebrow. 

“Then let me.” Blaine pushes Kurt’s clothes out of the way and noses up against Kurt’s cock.

Kurt sucks in a desperate breath. “But… we… someone might…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.” And before Kurt can protest further, Blaine takes him into his mouth, relishing the silky over hard feel of him. Blaine’s surprise approach combined with the slight fear of discovery does its job, and quicker than either of them could have anticipated Kurt is coming, hot and salty into Blaine’s mouth.

“Holy shit, Blaine,” Kurt pants, falling to his knees next to Blaine and attacking him with sloppy kisses. “What the hell was that? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.” Kurt untangles his legs and flops down on his back, taking Blaine with him.

“Careful there, you almost knocked over the paint can with your head.”

“Don’t think I care right now.” Kurt drags Blaine’s shirt off over his head, pulls Blaine against him, and reaches inside the elastic band of his shorts. It doesn’t take long before Blaine is right at the edge, babbling praise and encouragement until he has to press his eyes closed and throw his head back in pleasure.

A few minutes later, when he blinks open his eyes to Kurt’s satisfied grin, Blaine fully realizes what they just did. He sits up with a groan, looking around the yard.

“I’m pretty sure Trudy and Ana aren’t home,” Kurt says with a smirk. “But next time you might want to check before you pull my cock out of my shorts in plain view of our neighbors.”

“Holy shit, I really did that, didn’t I?”

Kurt kisses him, drags his fingers through his sweaty hair, and kisses him some more. Blaine melts into it, loving the feel of Kurt’s lips against his own, the smell of his body close to his. Even the grass tickling his skin and the random little rocks poking his side feel good right now. “You know what?” he asks, pulling back to gaze into his boyfriend’s eyes, bright blue today in the sunshine.

“What?”

“I’m really glad you convinced me to move here.”

“Not missing Burt and Carole as much as you thought?”

Blaine laughs softly. “I do miss them. But… being on our own has its advantages.”

“That it does,” Kurt says, rolling over on top of Blaine and licking a stripe down his neck. “That it does.” 

*****

_Blaine is 22, Kurt is 23_

They’ve lived in their cozy home for just over a year when something changes. Kurt isn’t sure what it is, just that something is off. He wonders if maybe the honeymoon period is over, that he and Blaine are finally starting to behave like all the couples they see portrayed on television, and will simply grow apart bit by bit as the years go by.

It’s not as if anything is actively wrong, but Kurt can feel Blaine pulling away. Blaine doesn’t protest when Kurt spends longer hours working at Gita’s studio two nights in a row, and he has a project of his own that keeps his attention fixed on his computer instead of calling it a day and cuddling in bed with Kurt when Kurt’s string of long nights is finally over.

At the end of this strange week, they go over to Burt and Carole’s for dinner, and Kurt begins to get an idea about what might be troubling Blaine. The table is set more formally than usual, and Carole declares that they’re celebrating Blaine finishing his online college program. She pours champagne and raises her glass, encouraging them to toast to Blaine’s accomplishment.

Blaine smiles and nods, and accepts his family’s congratulations, but he’s not truly enjoying the moment, and Kurt is starting to think he knows why. Blaine catches Kurt looking intently at him, and a flicker of something almost like panic crosses his face. A moment later, Blaine slides his chair closer to Kurt and takes his hand. 

Blaine stays close to Kurt for the rest of the evening, a subtle change from the uneasy distance that had been there for the past week. When they get home, Kurt has barely has time to take off his jacket and hang it up before Blaine declares, “We need to talk.”

Blaine makes Kurt sit down on the sofa while he gets his laptop and brings it over to the coffee table. He’s full of false starts and doesn’t seem to be able to decide how to say what’s on his mind. 

“Blaine? Just tell me, okay? It can’t be that bad.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you, I have, I just wanted to find the right time-”

“Sweetheart,” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand, “rip the bandaid off already. You’re killing me here.”

Blaine bites his lip, finds the tab he was looking for on his computer, clicks it and turns it to face Kurt. “Read this.”

Kurt’s almost afraid to look at the official looking letter, sure that it’s some kind of notice that Blaine’s status has been discovered, that he’s going to be prosecuted for something he has no control over, that he’ll be taken away and imprisoned somewhere… but as he reads it, he discovers that it is nothing of the sort.

“Blaine – it’s a job offer.”

“I know.”

“From a major newspaper.”

“I know.”

“Blaine, this is fantastic!”

“It’s cool, yeah. But I can’t take the job.”

Kurt moves the laptop out of the way, puts his hands on Blaine’s shoulders. “Why can’t you take it?”

Blaine looks pained. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s in Toronto. Canada. If I go, I can probably never come back to the states. I’m not leaving you, and I’m not asking you to leave here – your work with Gita, your business. Your dad.” His voice is tight. “So I can’t take it.”

Kurt looks at the letter. It’s dated almost exactly a week ago. “You should have told me sooner. We could have talked about it. Avoided this week of… weirdness.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Blaine buries his head in his hands, then looks up at Kurt apologetically. “I thought I should figure it out for myself, first. If I talked to you too soon, you’d just make me go, follow my dreams and all that shit.”

“It’s not shit to follow your dreams.”

Blaine shrugs. “I’m not leaving you.”

Kurt leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling Blaine down with him until he’s lying against his chest. Blaine is stiff at first, not wanting to accept comfort, but he relaxes as Kurt rubs his hand up and down his arm. He threads his fingers into Blaine’s curls, tugging on them gently.

“You know what they have in Toronto?” Kurt asks.

“What?”

“Restaurants. Museums. Art galleries. Baseball games. Shops – tons and tons of shops. There’s a zoo, and an aquarium, and theaters. And you know what they all have in common?”

“What do they have in common?” Blaine plays along, frowning a little.

“None of them ask you to show a NIC card to get in.”

“I know that, Kurt.”

“You know what else they have in Toronto?”

Blaine pushes up, looks at Kurt with annoyance. “They have everything – I know. It’s a great big awesome city, with anything anyone could ever want. Except you – you’re not there. So I’m not going.”

Kurt sighs. “Blaine, they have a thriving gay community. The largest one in Canada. Toronto’s Village is filled with gay men and women, the whole LGBTQ rainbow. There are cafés and bars and nightclubs, and in all of them, we could do this.” Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine’s lips. “We can sit next to each other, and hold hands, and dance... Whatever we want. Without fear of harassment, or worse. Don’t you think I want that?”

Blaine is silent for a moment. “How do you know so much about Toronto?”

“There’s an artists’ gallery there that carries a lot of our work. They’ve bought a dozen high-end boxes from me over the past year, and have a few of Gita’s bigger pieces on display. They’ve been wanting me to visit, actually. Had some ideas for more ways we could work together.”

Kurt can practically see the gears in Blaine’s head turning. “So you would… you might…?”

“Might leave this horrible excuse of a country and flee to Canada with you?” Kurt asks, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Just say the word, boyfriend.”

“Really?” 

The hope in Blaine’s eyes is irresistible, and Kurt can’t help but lean in for a kiss. “Really.”

Blaine reaches up to cup Kurt’s cheek as he deepens the kiss, and then sighs against him in relief. “I can’t believe this could actually happen.” He pulls back, concern on his face. “But what about your dad and Carole?”

“They’ll understand, Blaine. They really will. They know how impossible it is for us here.” 

“Won’t you miss them?”

“Of course I’ll miss them,” Kurt says, taking Blaine’s hand. “And I know you will too. But their documents are clean – they could even come visit.”

Blaine sits up, wrings his hands together. “There’s still the challenge of actually getting there.”

“Since you’ll have a job, won’t that get you whatever work visa you need?”

“It’s not staying in Canada that’s the problem – I actually talked to Mike Lee about that. Canada has made some changes to their immigration laws to make sure that people who want to leave the U.S. can come there. My status here won’t be a problem as far as Canada is concerned.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I might get stopped when I try to leave the U.S.”

Kurt frowns. “Not to be rude, but won’t the government just be glad you’re leaving?”

Blaine shrugs. “You’d think so. But they might question my paperwork anyway, might not want to believe the Canadian letter of intent… things could go wrong. Mike said I could call him if anything happened, and that probably it would be fine, but that I should be prepared.”

Kurt considers this. It is remarkable how things that one should be able to take for granted, like relying on the government to treat people fairly, just don’t happen anymore. “I can leave, though, right?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah, you should be okay. And as far as staying and working in Canada…” his voice trails off, and Kurt could swear he is blushing.

“What?”

“Well…” Blaine shifts on the couch so that he is facing Kurt directly. “You could get a job, and have a work visa like me, although there are some issues with trying to convert a visitor’s visa to a work visa without a return trip to the states. But the best way for us both to pursue citizenship there, if we want to,” Blaine takes Kurt’s hand, rubs his thumb over his palm, and bites his lip, “-is to get married.”

Kurt’s heart swells, and a grin spreads across his face. He doesn’t know how this hadn’t occurred to him immediately. “Blaine. We could get married in Canada. For real.”

“We could,” Blaine replies, beaming at him. “It’s been legal in Ontario since 2003. So we really can…. if you want to, that is.” The excited look on Blaine’s face shows that he really doesn’t have any doubt about what Kurt’s answer will be.

“You know I do,” Kurt says. He wraps Blaine into a hug, squeezing him tight before dotting kisses all over his face. “Holy crap, we can really get married.” Kurt hugs him again, Blaine shaking with laughter as he rocks them back and forth. 

“Kurt, are we engaged?” Blaine whispers in Kurt’s ear.

“We are.”

“Want to go back to your dad’s and see if he has some more of that champagne?”

Kurt smiles against Blaine’s neck, but shakes his head. “How about we go upstairs and celebrate privately, then tell everyone over mimosas tomorrow morning?”

Blaine immediately rolls off the couch and stands up, extending his hand to Kurt. “Fiancé, you have the best ideas.”


	10. Epilogue

For their one-year wedding anniversary, they decide on a romantic dinner at one of their favorite cozy restaurants. They had toyed with eating in, just the two of them, but in the end the symbolism of going out together, as husbands, to publicly celebrate their legal, government-approved union, won out. Especially when Kurt promised to make Blaine breakfast in bed the next day.

The move to Toronto had gone relatively smoothly, all things considered. The night before the actual trip Kurt had thought he might have to drug Blaine to get him to relax enough to go to sleep, he was so nervous about going through Customs the next day. But his paperwork was accepted with nothing more dangerous than a sneer and a scoff, and then they were through, out of the U.S. and into a country where having immigrant parents wasn’t a crime, and being able to love who you wish was taken for granted.

To say they like living in Toronto doesn’t even begin to cover it. As far as Kurt is concerned, no place could possibly be more fabulous. His high-end woodworking business is growing steadily, with assistance from Gita’s far-reaching contacts, and a collaborative partnership with one of the artists in Toronto he had corresponded with previously. 

Blaine takes to their new life like a fish to water. It’s as if he has emerged from the restrictive cocoon of fear that surrounded him when they lived in the states, and is now an entirely new being. He’s joyful, and creative, and full of an energy that is giddy and contagious. Of course, he’s not completely different – he still loves Kurt endlessly, and now with a reckless abandon that makes Kurt feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

Kurt wonders, sometimes, why they didn’t leave the U.S. sooner. He asks his dad during one of their weekly Skype calls.

“It crossed my mind,” Burt says, “back when we left town to go stay with Trudy, when you guys were young. But at some level, I guess I really couldn’t believe that our country had turned into this horrible place. Even after everything I had seen, with Trump, and the Citizens movement, and all the hate. I thought this was a good country – we already fought for civil rights, and freedom, and democracy. I guess I just kept hoping things would turn around.” Burt looks down, rubs his face with his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

There are tentative signs that more people are getting fed up with the xenophobia that has gripped the United States for so long, but nothing to indicate that any real change is coming soon. Entire industries have suffered without being able to hire talented people because they lack the necessary heritage qualifications, including the high tech sector that had been such a feather in the country’s cap. But politicians continue to spout hate and the need to keep jobs for Citizens… despite the fact that with the ongoing recession, arguably caused by the numerous restrictive laws regarding who is allowed to hold certain jobs, there are fewer jobs to be had.

Canada, on the other hand, has benefited from the U.S.’s economic troubles. Many are calling Toronto the new Silicon Valley, where people of all backgrounds are valued for their entrepreneurial and creative spirit. And in a country which has had marriage equality in place for almost forty years, sexual orientation discrimination is almost never an issue.

Being a part of a gay community is a revelation for Kurt and Blaine. On his first day at work, Blaine was introduced to more LGBTQ people than he had met in his entire life. A month into his new job, Blaine brought in a small framed picture of himself and Kurt to set on the desk in his cube, and no one said a word against them (although he received several comments along the lines of what a cute couple they made, and requests to meet his hot husband).

The week after their anniversary, Blaine’s manager gets wind of the occasion and organizes a night out at a club. Kurt is excited to go – he loves to dance with Blaine. They haven’t been to this particular spot before, though, and when they get there it’s significantly more upscale than they are used to. And maybe because it’s the new thing in town, it’s also packed with people – well-dressed but increasingly inebriated and sweaty people, crammed in so tightly that it’s all they can do to squeeze their way up to the bar.

But Blaine’s manager buys everyone a few rounds of drinks, and they all make their way out onto the dance floor. Blaine and Kurt dance together for a while, and Kurt can see Blaine trying to lose himself in the party atmosphere. He pulls him close, one hand on the small of his back, another pushing a stray curl off his forehead. “Having fun?”

Blaine focuses on Kurt and gives him a small smile, but doesn’t say anything. Kurt is getting the feeling that something is off, but before he can question Blaine further a new song starts up and Blaine throws himself into it, spinning Kurt around and wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind. Between the haze of the room, the alcohol, and the feeling of his husband’s body up against his own, Kurt quickly stops worrying.

They dance together for a while but eventually get separated, as one of Blaine’s co-workers draws Kurt into a conversation about the latest fashion trends (he can’t help it if the abundance of high-end clothing stores in Toronto feeds his inner fashionista – and the outfit he has on tonight is one of his favorites, tight black pants tucked into tall knee-high boots, and a glimmering chartreuse asymmetrical top). Kurt decides he’s ready for another drink, and scans the crowd for Blaine to see if he wants one too. He doesn’t see him right away, so he makes his way over to the bar, figuring maybe he will find him there. 

It takes forever to get the bartender’s attention, during which time Kurt has spotted every single person in their group other than Blaine. He leaves their drinks with one of Blaine’s co-workers and weaves his way back through the crowd, scanning the small tables in the back, and then heads to the restroom.

It’s mercifully quieter when he goes inside. The granite countertops and artfully designed sinks would be more appropriate in an expensive restaurant than a nightclub, but Kurt doesn’t spend any time admiring them.

“Blaine? Are you in here?”

One of the stall doors opens and Blaine peeks out. His face is pale, and he looks like he’s about to faint. “Kurt.” 

“Hey, come here.” Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and pulls him close. He’s sweaty and shivering. “I was worried about you. You okay?”

Blaine just digs his face into Kurt’s neck.

“It’s all right, I’ve got you, honey. Breathe.” They stay wrapped around each other for a minute, until someone else comes into the bathroom and they have to move aside. 

“I’m sorry, I…” Blaine looks at Kurt in appeal, biting his lip. “I’m okay, I was just…” Blaine doesn’t seem to have the words.

“Want to go home?”

Blaine nods quickly. 

“All right, let’s go.” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand firmly in his, and they head out of the club, not pausing to say goodbye to their group. Whatever is upsetting Blaine, Kurt wants to put some distance between it and them as soon as possible. He’ll make sure Blaine texts his colleagues in a few minutes, but right now he just wants to get away from the people and the noise, so his husband can stop looking like he’s about to pass out. 

Blaine leans against Kurt in the cab, holding his hand and playing with his fingers. Kurt can tell he’s not ready to talk yet from the set of his jaw, and that’s fine. Clearly whatever got to him can wait a few more minutes – Blaine is safe, sitting right next to him. He’s not injured or hurt, at least not in the ways that Kurt used to fear, back home in the states where Blaine being beaten or even taken away for something that wasn’t his fault was much more of a possibility than here in Toronto.

They climb the stairs to their apartment, both of them relaxing as they shed their coats and shoes. Kurt goes into the kitchen and pours them each a glass of seltzer, handing one to Blaine as Blaine trails him back into the living room. Kurt sits down on the couch, one leg pulled up underneath him, and Blaine joins him, one socked foot nervously tapping on the floor.

Kurt reaches out and kisses Blaine softly, a hand on the back of his neck, and Blaine sighs when they part. “Want to tell me what got you so spooked?” Kurt says, taking a sip from his glass and then setting it on the table, so he has both hands free to hold Blaine as he slides a little closer.

“It’s not such a big deal,” Blaine says, staring into his drink as if it held the answers to the world’s problems. “Someone recognized me.”

Kurt realizes right away that Blaine doesn’t mean someone from _here,_ their new life, and a chill runs down his spine, remembering how scared they always were that someone would come to the Hummels’ home looking for the half-Asian child that disappeared so many years ago. “Who was it?”

“A kid I used to play with when I was in grade school. Joey. Joey Haddad.” Blaine sets his glass down on the coffee table and straightens it so that it lines up next to Kurt’s. “He had this big basement where we always played. We set up towns with his train tracks and blocks, and made elaborate stories about all the people on the trains, and where they wanted to go. My mom and his mom would always come down with snacks for us, grapes and peanut butter cookies and those goldfish crackers – Joey always liked the pizza flavored ones, he’d eat the whole bag if he could.” Blaine pauses, lost in his thoughts. “My mom always laughed so much when she got together with Joey’s mom. She loved going to their house, she’d say it was her favorite playdate.” Blaine looks up at Kurt, his eyes wide with emotion. “His family moved away the summer after first grade, before I met you.”

Before Blaine’s family was attacked, and his life changed forever. “Oh, sweetie.” Kurt slides closer and puts his arms loosely around Blaine’s shoulders, but still holds his gaze. “Sounds like you have some nice memories with him.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says quietly. “He was a good friend.”

“Did you get to talk to him tonight? What’s he up to now?” Kurt rubs a hand on Blaine’s back, encouraging him to lean closer.

“He grew up here, in Toronto, went to college at McGill, and then moved back here to be closer to his mom and dad. He’s working for a consulting firm, something to do with health care. Seems to like it a lot.”

“Any romantic interests?” Kurt waggles his eyebrows a bit at Blaine, and the small smile he gets in return shows that Blaine is doing just fine.

“He’s engaged, actually. To a girl he met at school. She wasn’t there tonight, but he seems pretty excited about her.”

“Well I should hope so,” Kurt says, and Blaine huffs out a laugh. “Why don’t we invite them over sometime? I’d like to meet this boy with the pizza goldfish fixation.”

“You would?”

“Sure. I mean, I’ve done a pretty careful study of Blaine Anderson from age eight onwards, but I don’t know much at all about what he was like in first grade. I might learn something important.”

Blaine smiles, and plays with the pointed collar on Kurt’s shirt, smoothing it down. “The red train was my favorite. Joey always let me have that one.”

“Red? Really?” Kurt leans back, and runs a finger over the red and black striped bowtie still firmly knotted around Blaine’s neck. “I never would have guessed.” With a quick glance up at Blaine, Kurt unties the bowtie and pulls it off, the sound of the silk sliding through his collar sending a thrill down his spine.

Blaine’s eyes are wide and he tilts his head at Kurt, trying to maintain a serious expression. “Husband, are you trying to sex me up, after the very emotional experience I had tonight?”

Kurt leans his head back as Blaine punctuates his question with kisses to his neck. “Do I need an excuse to sex you up?” Kurt pushes gently on Blaine’s shoulders, and moves to straddle him as Blaine lies back on the couch.

“Mmm, no, you’re right. No excuse needed.” 

Kurt starts unbuttoning Blaine’s shirt, and before long all clothes have been discarded and they are wrapped around each other, naked and happy and safe, except perhaps for the imminent danger of rolling off the couch and bumping into their custom made (by Gita) cherry coffee table. 

Kurt knows that even here, in their new adopted country, where they are both free to be who they are, there are going to be times when Blaine’s past comes back to haunt him. But they’ll get through it together, just like they did when Blaine was a curly-haired little boy who smiled when Kurt made his stuffed animals sing to him, who didn’t flinch at Kurt’s moods, and who held his hand while others proclaimed the wrongness of his very being. 

Despite it all, they found love, and Kurt wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Rhianna’s We Found Love (In A Hopeless Place).
> 
> This is obviously very different from what I usually write. Please let me know what you think. And thanks as always to perry_avenue!


End file.
